My mother
On old decayed wooden bed
I saw you lying mum
With hell of a hope
With sunken eyes
Gray hair, shrunken face
Looking at “nothing significant “ roof
Hoping hopes are unhurt.
Hopes like a hoarse run
Heaping up over & over
Hovering the life
Towards an unending point.
A man lacking the insight
Might see hopes as a help
Grasp all towards him
Giving rise to a pathetic life .
Hope is a mere thought
Coming up from bottom of heart
Neither be prevented
Nor be destroyed
Throughout the SANSARIC PATH.
A man seen the inner heart
Will not be hurtful
From this seemingly graceful hopes
Even if not successful.
To walk towards hopeless
Is the mind to be grown up
As preached by the Lord
Is the only path
Towards lasting happiness.
Dr. Dammika Wijearathna