TO MY MOST LOVED TEACHER

Existence; all of choice, and yet, 
Choices breathe for good or bad,
Extremes most glued deep, anchored,
In nerves of one’s beating hearts,
Either, nest for crowning good,
Or drowned at its complement,
Among stuff that imprints well,
Teachers- most born child’s memories,
Said thus one’s god father,
Foster shell to weaned nibbling seeds,
Often breed true, but some low
Among best, my most loved,
Still my heart, a lodge green, so deep,
you, my father, from second till fifth,
Choice’s award to offer for best,
To perfect memory of goodness,
Whose praises and banners of honor,
Million cells within me singing still,
For first your speech waved upon,
Certain energy radiance lodged deep,
Rather, my worships’ thesaurus.
By god’s providence, my master,
As the wisdom to perfect being,
Focusing onto your graceful self,
Did befall upon me, rather boon,
Your godly watch and concern,
Existence filled thus, a sprout,
On very dawn of life and wisdom
Careless juvenile heart flittering fast,
Sometimes drenched in muddy shore,
Or clothes with air gaps happened,
Of vibrant young days’ play,
But You- the perfect one, perfected,
With your wisdom and care,
All to newer daily, with new me always!
What my immature conscience imaged most,
All planted patience, my master borne
Assets divine, beyond heavens,
Your generosity from pockets, buoyant,
Tuned me to a child, perfect,
Sowing within deep, fairy,
Of reading, writing, speaking,
And your patience sown deeper
I recall now, a holy slap of concern,
Only throughout your momentary halt,
Till to next fortunate, you left for-
It waved through my cheeks, reddening,
Yet alike some blossoms punctured,
Till pollen of selfless love wafted,
So, for me stands wholesome god,
A temple and a golden globe
Now with ringing of distant bell,
Rising disciples throughout,
With waves beating drums,
Praises marking their day,
Glows then candle in my heart, brilliant,
Your portrait in conscience revered.
Early through my night oriel,
Count those sparkling heavens,
Pass my master’s love, but too little,
And incessant tears rolls then,
Still would those pages mound in shelves,
Or looked for some pins, once,
All by your noblest fixed,
I would have saved well now,
And moments showered from dice,
Till to my graveyard woods- golden,
But decayed of my innocence
What soothes most now-
Your wisdom lodged bright
And green glowing hope,
To inherit your blessings always!