(For a specific reason, I dedicate this poem

to the memory of a gift to life, the late Mr. Navin Chandarpal)

I thought it common, to all richly given,A purified gift from the gods of heaven;
I considered mine an unwanted thing
To be viewed as a bird’s wounded wing
Unworthy to give its body upward flight
Resting in agony where there be little light

I forgot then.

Those I created by the heart I daily set free
Yet, even now, I know not, of what maturity;
But consider I my silence unfair to my call
In mighty power I lose and live and stand to fall
While time appeals take to you, of your gift rare
Do not walk in silence, speak, defying your fear.

For we must not forget now!

Krishna Nand Prasad