Wisdom

These mountains that we, thoughtlessly drill
Have for aeons embraced, and pacified
That anger of storms, Winds at rage

Yes, this very breeze, purifying our blood
It would lose its sanity, over periods of time
As breath flowing through nadis, bruised and cut
For can a son bear, the abuse of Mother Earth
By his very brother, the youngest, called Man

But the Mountain, the eldest, keeps his calm
Stops his brother, and then begins to remind:
Don't you love Him too, perhaps more than me
Chose willingly, in doting selfless love
To enrich Him through, the first moment to his last

Immature He is, corrupted by his powers
Not aware is He, we bestowed him with these
He hurts me, pollutes you, and your younger the Water
Claims intellect, but not fathom, the havoc borne
On his own lifespan, and that of his child..

Your anger instigates water, there look he follows
Oh wait my sister, not yet a time to punish
For He is composed, of you and our mother
In him you cause pain, to self and the mother
Think of that if not, to heed to this brother's words

Yes I know he stains, the very identity of His own
Blocks your path and redirects, upon his will
Also hurt his sister, plants now crippled yet compassionate
Her mute tears, not of her loss, but His

I know not of the mind, gifted to Him with vision
Which yet leads him away, filled with hatred and greed
But forget not even, if he kills me one day
He is our own, made from the each of us
His blood will only fall, on the body of our mother
His life he will lose, in the witness of our father

So together let us, meditate and pray
To our father the sun, and mother who carries us
To embrace us: For that would be moksha, not death
As with contemplation eternal, I have realized
That Man came to being, only to end
The cycle of creation, which their separation had set