Footprint of an Elephant
By A.N. Persaud
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About this ebook
A.N. Persaud
A. N. Persaud has been taking poetic license for roughly half of his life. Born in Georgetown, Guyana, he now spends much of his time in and around Toronto, Canada, where he busies himself with philosophy, poetry, and the pursuit of truth. A decade in the making, Footprint of an Elephant is the first compilation of his work.
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Footprint of an Elephant - A.N. Persaud
Contents
Book 1 AWAKENING
The Bridge
One freedom
What begins as a seed
Ram out of Ayodhya
When fools decide to tread
We too are human
A thing diminished
You came to me
Stim
Prepare the ground
I wear your band
Where has transcendence gone?
A warmth in being near
Book 2 UPRISING
10
When you close the gate
What lingers
Don’t Look Back
Throw yourself
Balloons
Open the windows
Stand among the young
A room for music
The cradle in the labyrinth
Sawol’s brood
The chariot
Go not with a heavy heart
Who?
Uprising
Part II
Two heads rise: the battle for man
Battle for the light we fear
A great unease: death within
Like an arrow to its target
One-way street
Shall I let you sleep, my love?
Spit not the venom
Fertile ground
The slowed pace
Not a place to close one’s eyes
No obstacle prevails
The Sixth Labour
It was said
Book 3 CONQUEST
Risen
Kairos and the fire
I’ve come to kill you, Mr. Persaud
Disciples on trial
Merit
Whose lights?
The Footprint of an Elephant
The undulating way
14
Who says my poems are poems?
These poems are not poems.
When you can understand this,
Then we can begin to speak of poetry.
(Taigu Ryokan)
Whenever your spirit wants to speak in images, pay heed;
for this is when your virtue has its origin and beginning.
(Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche)
Book 1 AWAKENING
inner%20dividers%201a.jpgThe Bridge
I came to an old bridge on my path.
Above the entranceway to the bridge hung a sign.
It was an ancient sign,
A message from the ancestors, already thousands of years old when it was hung.
It said
"This is a bridge.
Do not build your home here."
A message in plain view for all to see
Who dare cast their gaze upwards
Away, for one short moment, from the dirt which covers the way
I try every day as I cross the bridge
To heed the message of those wise men and women
Who belong not to the past, but to the future
Because they did not make their home upon a bridge
But found their true abode upon the motionless foundations.
I strive to follow their examples.
I strive to remember, as I cross
that this is a bridge.
This is a bridge, I tell myself, this is a bridge.
And I walk.
This is a bridge, a tool, a means, an implement.
But sometimes my body becomes tired
And it wants to stop and make a home upon this bridge.
But if I listen to this body, so attached to the bridge, and stop
It will be so difficult to rise and walk again.
I cannot stop.
Stopping and resting in the comfort of the known means a death.
The Memory will fade and I will not know that this is a bridge.
I will mistake it for a home and greater beings will look upon me,
Poor creature, in pity.
I will forget that there is a destination,
Ends for which