Poem by Shamik Banerjee
In silence, God hearkeneth me, With blest water my chalice fills, He sends his light through homily, The deuce on me when malice wills. Once in my heart when tarried doubt, Of his suchness then I did frain, But when my vessel wearied out, He sent his bark to reach the main. In bosom mine, he keeps his own, With soft music doth flow his word, When earthly babels are not blown, His firm advisement can be heard. Ween not if his love extant be, No aid thy maker ever werns, In thy spirit awaiteth he, One finds him when withinward turns.
Shamik Banerjee is a poet and poetry reviewer from the North-Eastern belt of India. He loves taking long strolls and spending time with his family. His deep affection with Solitude and Poetry provides him happiness.
