In Search of Saints.

    In Search of Saints.

When saints walked from place to place,
The earth cast a vision of Heaven.
Their footprints became a starry cluster
Throwing light on life's lofty journey.
The thorns turned into flowers.
The thoughts of men were filled with fragrance.
Each day was born to spread goodness,
Like the smiles of new born babies.
Soon the earth was filled with
Slimy selfishness and dust of arrogance;
Trading minds threw the saints in exile;
Or those holy, took a holiday for a while.
What we see now is a transformed bulk of soil
Trumped by storms,floods and droughts.
The deserted earth draws no dreams,
To drive out the downing syndrome.
Leaders are not saints and saints alone can lead.
When power glitters in new costumes,
The eyes of men and women begin to dazzle
In an emptiness, that the saints are not used to.
The saints lead by the glow of their eyes
And the grip of their feet to the sacred soil.
Where there are no saints but leaders,
The earth warbles notes of sound and fury,
Losing its core of sweetness and light.
What is lost, could perhaps be recovered.
But what has been deliberately deserted,
Drains our breath to its last gasp and groan.
                                                    P.Chandrasekaran.