The Sovereign Smile

How is it that you still can smile,

When breath is choked by grief and guile?

When waves of sorrow, dark and deep,

Make the shaken spirit weep?

Yet in your eyes, a light remains,

A melody that breaks the chains.

Soul and Spirit, woven threads,

Where Maya’s veil of longing spreads.

Ask the Sufi, Saint, and Sage,

How to smile on such a stage?

How, on the field where death is rife—

The Mahabharata of life?

Behind your gentle, budding grace,

A thousand questions find their place.

The leaves still sing a leafy song,

To cheer the traveler along;

Though every dream is torn apart,

A stillness dwells within your heart.

Your calm, detached, and silent play,

Leaves much to feel, but naught to say.

In questions, I am held a slave,

While in your silence, you are brave.

You teach me that this selfless mirth,

Is prayer’s highest form on earth.

I learn the mantra, old and true:

How springs of joy can bloom anew,

On atheistic rocks of stone—

I bow to Grace, and Grace alone.