Varanasi

Amongst the filth
the sweet sound of the flute player
carries through the heated air
and everywhere,
down the Ghats
at sunrise,
the pilgrims gather
along the sacred river Ganges;
devoted to life,
birth and death.
Here in ancient Varanasi
against the backdropp of temples centuries old,
the soul of man
finds its own way home
amongst the filth.

poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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