MY FATHER, THE SOFT ROCK..

“All my senses bow to honour thee;

O demi-god of knowledge, and a huge tree…”

The tongue he owns  of steel

Piercing through conscience, one could feel

The delicacy of hardness, his words possess

And he is the herald of modern race….

“Never did quench thy august thirst

To emerge among all, always first

To thy pleas, to sow alphabhetic seed

In the soil of little, curious minds.

The world, the just and candid, finds

Thy verbal stress that does sound

As lovely as green moss on dry ground…

Like the roar of the gong,

Like the sweet-maiden’s song,

May thy endeavours earn God’s favour

And be there thy image, pure and sure….