I have no wish
to strike root
Prof. P. P. SHARMA
There’s something to be said for having no home,
to be perpetually wandering,
to love the sun, the breeze, the stars,
the little rivulet, the birds and the cattle
of the new place where I happen to be.
I do not find them deficient
when compared with those I’ve known before.
I’ll stay here for some time
and feel grateful that I can look back
and forward and see the great flux
that has moulded me. I have no wish
to strike root. For then I’ll get made.
My aspiration is to be in the making
for ever, or for as long as I can see.
Each passing moment is unique
unlike anything that ever was, is likely to be.
Who knows what I’ll be while living it!
Not in memories but in anticipations do I live.
I hate finished forms. Their tyranny
excludes so much I’m eager to embrace.
When the last hour is struck
and when everything is supposed to be lost
some secret may yet be wrung
some insight, some quickening of the spirit.
One moment may unfold
what has lain unsuspected
across the abysm of lived years.