Unto the passing lights and evening hues, <br />Unto the endless waves of life, <br />He plays his Piccolo <br />To the tune of matchless olden times. <br /> <br />Against the sinking sun, <br />Against the waking moon <br />The Piccolo follows a song <br />And drops it among the passers-by. <br /> <br />It is a quiet eve <br />It is a river-side. <br />There in search of a comfortable night, <br />The piper opens his lute. <br /> <br />Under the umpteen stars <br />He spends his sleepless nights. <br />In the many corners of the city <br />He is an endless traveller. <br /> <br />A pilgrim of infinite- <br />He is caught by the wilderness of life. <br />But his countenance is serene <br />As the stillness of the scene. <br /> <br />There in the softness of air <br />He plays in heart and throb. <br />There, unto the moving world <br />He presents a momentous hour. <br /> <br />And I see an old couple <br />Wipe off their tears. <br />Away to the shores of yore <br />They are swept by the wholesome music. <br /> <br />And in his basket <br />They deposit a few Francs. <br />Beyond the tingling coins <br />A soulful heart is heard. <br /> <br />And the couple disappear into the city lights <br />Moved, relieved and really pacified. <br />Silently they sit at the dinner table <br />Longing for the winds of yore. <br /> <br />Late into the eve and beyond <br />The Piccolo player opens his fountain. <br />And away into his corner he shrinks <br />Emptying his richness into the world.<br /><br />Ravi Panamanna<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pilgrim-of-infinite/
