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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required “Let`s greet everybody with love, We know not when and in what shape We may meet the Almighty Lord.”-By Author ************************************************************** The Door of Uncertainty Midnight hours have just chimed on my wall clock Woeful wild winds are whirling on roof tops The sky shrouded with seams of darkish frocks Does not cease to cascade torrential drops; Often times roaring thunders dull my ears Lightning flashes dazzle the window panes Spreading splashes of simmering dark fears Down the frail aisle of my senile veins. Slashed with sharp stinging pains I lie abed In the languid loneliness of my room With my life tacitly tied to a thread Awaiting to be lured by ghosts of doom; Soon I sense hearing three knocks at the door, Who can this be at this untimely time! I wonder, such sounds never heard before, These could, I deem, just be some distant chimes. The knocks on the door reach my ears once more, Hardly I can move with back sore with pain, Yet pulling up my spirit to the core I try to reach for the door with much strain. Leaning against walls of the corridor I trudge to the door of the living room Where is lighted a little lamp of yore That lightly tampers darkness of the gloom. Is anyone at the door, I murmur, One, twice, thrice I enquire, but in vain, No reply, but the winds` woeful whispers On the gutters and the neighbouring plains. Wild waves of uncertainty gnaw my mind, Can it be a thief, come to steal my worth Can it be Hades` herald, I need to find As bells can knell soon for me to quit earth. With a sigh of fear, I unlock the door But can notice no soul on the terrace, Soon a suffering sparrow greets the floor From the door head seeking care and solace. Despite my frail health I admit the bird Through the failing door of uncertainty Dispense care until it can join its herd Extend to it my humble courtesy. Oft and anon, the bird roosts on the door To sing its sweetish song of gratitude, The splash of human gesture to adore And bestow on me its beatitude. The door of wavering uncertainty Has proved for me to be the gate of bliss That with steadfast, unswerving certainty Just for a day I shall not like to miss.
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