Muse on the visits

The land that you own and things in hand
Have come to you to stay as guests,
For a snap or sleep and would slip soon
From you against your wish and acts.
It’s not gentle for you to deny
The guests their freedom of movements.

What you own, be it land, things or friends,
Are your visitors, not prisioners.
You don’t get them; instead to you they come.
Their visits are joy and exits, sorrow.
The sorrow is the merit of the joy got.
Muse on their visits, not on their exits.
29.10.2008

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!