Sept. 8, 2011
Eerie atmosphere as if the sun
Were hidden by an opaque veil of ash
A stillness too that silences the leaves
And the loud world to a moment's rest.
It is the hour of the great eclipse,
No birds sing and stifled the cricket's cry
As suddenly the earth a stranger seems
To one accustomed to the day and night.
An unknown scent drifts upon the air.
Almost a frightening witching hour comes
In the heavy sky when day has turned to dusk.
One stands alone wondering if this
Was how the world began before the Word
Brought light and the first greening came.
Perhaps a landscape on the cusp of time
Before the mighty OM, the primal sound
Was heard and the first laboured breath began.
But now the sun in an unclouded sky
Returns and normalcy is ours again
Though one reflects as on a passing dream
Why we are here and what is yet to come.