In The Morn

In   The  Morning

In   the  blissful  Morn   crows  caw,

A  wake up call   for  many  a   still  asleep, 

A  cacophony  for   some: chase  away  crows,

Disgruntled  the  humans  are;

Dulcet  is  the  aura  in the  Dawn;

 Bow   and  fingers   up  and  down

On the  violin, your  soul   one

with  a  melody, inner  voice vibrant

with   the   soft  with  the content

everywhere.  Could  be  a sorrowful

recollection  or  rhapsody know not  

the  passive listener  muses   silent.

You  are alone  merging one  with

The universe, in love  with  the 

Seamless  self’s  yearning  for  

Unknown  and   Maya or Creation

Or  even    the  delusive   karma,

In reality  it goes  in the right path

Of   preordained  dictum. Thanking

Heaven   for  all  Graces    benign.

 Finger on the lowest string  says

Something   mellifluous.  Incense

Sticks’  lingering  perfume  is  still there.