Stream of Life

The stream of life that runs through my veins,
both night and day, also runs through the world,
dancing in rhythmic steps, making lyrical songs,
joyous moments, simple little painful pleasures.

It is life that shoots through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass breaking in waves
of leaves and flowers, rocking also in the ocean-cradle
of birth and death, in tide both high and low.

My limbs, I feel, are made splendid by the touch
of this stream of life that also boosts my pride
as the life-throb of ages dances in my blood
this moment and in infinite moments to come.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 69

Henry Victor          10.10.2012