The Unreachable God

A desperate devotee seeking solace,
A minute with God was all he yearned.
To escape the worldly profanity,
To the divine his soul had turned

The burning sands, the cruel sun,
Charred his skin. His feet were torn.
He marched along, to meet his God,
The only one he could call his own.

Erupted, from the flat horizon,
The temple top, rising high.
Tornado of glee in his heart;
He could sense his God was nigh.

Stepping through the temple gates,
Faced by an un-thought of sight.
Throngs of hapless encumbered ones
Come to shed off their plight.

Withheld in crowded chambers
Impatiently the poor lay.
Rich ones shelled out their lucre,
Bought exclusive right to pray.

The mendicant robbed people;
As well as did the priest.
The rich "bought" ambrosia.
On leftovers, poor feast.

A long and crowded queue ahead,
Claustrophobic our devotee felt.
But the thought of reaching God,
His spirits high the pilgrim upheld.

People pushed, shoved, cursed, abused;
The serpentine queue inched along;
Assuming their quest for God
Justified all that was wrong.

The struggle and penance fructified;
His God, the pilgrim had barely seen;
The guardian of God broke his prayer,
"Move along," he let out a scream.

A minute with God was all he'd asked.
An eye-blink was all he got.
Depressed, angry the pilgrim felt,
Convinced, his impure soul would rot.

Then far, to nowhere, the pilgrim went,
Where no human defiled the air.
Cried silently for the want of God,
Thinking almighty did not care.

"I live in ones who know to love.
Can’t help the ones who fabricate
Evil schemes to rob the world
Their lives, themselves, dilapidate.”

The serene voice awoke his soul;
Struck with realization divine:
His God was with him all along.
An elaborate hoax, was the shrine.

People outdistanced themselves
On paths of evil when they trod.
They wandered out of His reach,
And they call Him 'the unreachable God'?

The God-men and the holy pyres
To the divine, do not lead.
The only way to reach your God
Is to live him in your every deed.

- Himanshu