The Knock

 

So sick and cold I lay in the bed,

As old and feeble I loll there tired,

Sprawling on the bed a knock was heard,

So tiny but clear I heard that sound.

With much difficulty I woke from the bed,

Walked to the door with much animosity,

With futility the door was opened,

Seeing nobody, I mourned and returned.

Again I heard the same little knock,

Again I jumped and plod to the door,

Again the door was opened in vain,

Again I came back mourning to the bed.

This continues for so many times,

Till I found the reason for the knock,

The knock was not at the door, I fancied,

The truth is in my heart which beats.

Like the knock we searched outside,

Searching the God, in hill and dale,

He is searched in books and heaven,

And searching him in temples and churches.

At last the search will be completed in vain,

And come back to there from where we started,

Then we sure will realize the truth

That, I’m he and he is I.

(Inspired by Swami Vivekananda's Speeches)