The Sick Mind by Romi Jain
The mind is immersed in trumpery thoughts,
Preoccupied with trite concerns;
Lie torpid senses of imagination,
Emptied of divine afflatus.
That’s why, O’mind!
Fireworks of nature excite you not;
Eerie thunder, curdy cloud, coral sky
Thrill you not.
The ailing intellect can conceive not
The imageries of mythical cosmos;
Can versify not the escapades of nature,
The mirth of the heart, the sorrows of the bosom:
Canker of crappy ideas has made inroads—
A pablum is born, like a malnourished newborn.
Mind! You are the city face of a land, showcasing ugly
Cables, poles, chimneys, boilers, wires, antennae,
Stifling smoke, cramped air, irking noise and traffic.
Revert to the countryside, O mind!
Embrace the breeze, the sparrow, the grassland, the rainbow.
Mind! Just hear the rustling of leaves
Intending to rouse you from sterile slumber.
Just wet yourself in the rain that splutters
On the roof to trickle down into neurons
With drops of imagination.
Prevent a poet’s death, O’mind!
Poke your tentacles into
Resuscitating sand of nature.