THE RHYTHM OF THE BUTTERFLY Contemporary Poetry Anthology by Santosh Kumar Biswa
A Blessed Priest Despite the caveat spark, above all, No alteration of its form, the proud rainbows took, Solely greed within and wrath that existed. Then came the shower so hefty, The rainbows couldn’t resist to stand firm, So was washed, not being with the commandment handed. The poor boatman watched over the sky, So clear it was when done, with new brightness within, Upon glancing down, was like a carpet grass, and then fresh. He multiplied when the days multiplied, Along with his selected mate, those inside the boat, Alas! The same rainbow took its form as before, With its new outlooks and of greater greed. And so got a blessed priest, so holy and virtuous, That Lazarus thanked most of his deeds, Not with wrath as before, but with eternal love, To paint the rainbows with new looks in them.
127
