The lost sheep

I am the lost sheep; I know My Lord!
You wander from heaven to hell
In search of me, to take me with you
In thine kingdom of ecstasy, I belong.
Do hold my hand to pull me out,
Of these illusions
To cure my sick self, That longs to be with you.
I am here, and you in me,
Closer than my own breaths.
Still
I can’t reach you, but you can.
Do lead me, so I follow.
On your footprints, to reach my homeland safely.

This was the Poem, a part of my book “The Journey” published in 2009 and may have been written much more before I compiled the book. But with years trotting on this journey of ‘life’. The unseen wrinkles and the fatigue do creep in through the capillary system of time and tide.

With the aging process, the capacity to do anything that is normal becomes harder and to retain the same vigor as that of the youth is next to impossible. Everything fades away, making one feel like a helpless child, putting persisting efforts to stand on one’s own feet. The windy throbs obstruct the way, the backbone leans, and the hunch back inhibits us, making it difficult to move towards the destination ahead.

Walking with just a light umbrella, that’s being hurled against the harsh winds and rain in this cold white Christmas is unable to safeguard me. The weight of my own self kept pressurizing the knees as a step is taken forward, but the pull from the gravitational force bends me more to lean backward. Age refuses to fight with time. Tide takes a toll, yet the soul’s baby steps creep forward to keep the goal in the forefront, to return to its master.

Suddenly the Son of the Lord comes to help, supports the hand that holds the umbrella, giving slow and steady firmness to my leaning back. He stops at the Crossing Light and helps me catch my breath. The sore windy gushes of harsh winds still find solace in the warmth of that hand, whose voice says, “I'm not going to leave you. I shall walk you to your friend who is awaiting you.”

But why? Who is my friend who wants to save my wrecking ship, sinking in the stormy winds of this bitter Christmas cold? ‘Now, you can go, your family is waiting for you. I will go now, you are in safe hands, Bye….’! It’s the gentle breeze that whispers in my ears.

‘Oh no. Please don’t leave me. I am thy lost sheep, I have no one else to comfort me.’ My silent teras profoundly express. ‘No no, I'm not leaving you.’ was a soft, soothing answer that gave me the reassurance that I was looking for, ‘Your voice is like that of my Master, who never loses sight of his sheep.”

I feel that I am walking on the sands of time, and the comfort of the Master’s hand touches the deepest core of my very being. I see that I am walking in the footsteps imprinted in the sand under me as though marked ‘just for me’ and I am to tread only that path. It is like being in the cosmos with all the robes scattered around me in space. I realize that the body is peeling away, layer by layer, releasing the soul free to go on with its journey.

With the help of the helping hand of my saviour I enter the home to see a large picture of my beloved Master, with graceful smile bestowing on my very being. A gentle whisper welcomes me saying, ‘So at last you’ve found your home; stay here, breathe here, live here with all freedom to free yourself from the cycle of birth and death’. So, ‘Was I not living before this?’ was the interrogation of my mind.

‘No, you were trapped like a bird in the cage, waiting for death to approach. Now, you live in HIS Canopy, HIS Will, never to die again’.

Amin

Footnote: On my first visit to the lady, who provided me a shelter which meant more than a home. As soon as I entered that home, I knew that this was my destination as I saw my Master on the Dias waiting to behold me, ready to embrace me, as I am, with full open arms.