Have you heard of the man,
Who has all, yet nothing?
He scrapes through life
Seeing none and feeling none
But stones and thorns.
His eyes are blind
[Even with the latest varilux lens]
To the myrtles that embellish
His path, the roses
That lend fragrance to the sordid ways.
Oh, he has myrtles, he has the roses
But all he knows is the thorns and the stones.
Ask him; he is eloquent with harangue
On the stone and the thorn,
He’d say this day one pricked him,
And that, one tripped him,
He lost three drams of blood
With his temper he never found….
He is meant to grace through life,
Tread soft on the myrtle and the rose,
But no, he prefers to scrape through it all.
Likes a harangue, for he thinks it manly.
To trip on stones, to step on thorns,
To shed three drams of blood,
Are a symbol of valour: Arjuna’s tribe.
Do we scorn at this man?
Do we pity, or pray, or prove him wrong?
Or do we laugh, or cheat ourselves
That one day, he’ll wake to his blessings?
I possess no answers,
But I do have a solution:
Accept the irony of it all
And stay away, far away,
From the man who has all,
But nothing.
Krishnarasa Seshadri
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-man-who-has-all-yet-nothing/
