Power to Heal

As those few raindrops that fall from heaven above,

Most celebrated drizzling over dry vast first.

They trickle down to quench thirst

Of green growth all its way to the

groove.

So surrounded among indifferent individuals I rove,

Demoralized to find every name in that list

Yet none to penetrate through gist

Of matter but a distant mythological dove.

Perched high completely concealed in a thicket

A source of solace that sometimes sing,

To revive spirits of weary limbs with notes explicit

Mind agitated thus relieved from knots on life’s string,

Every art some story thus depict,

And those who decipher such joy to heart bring.