Time is always short

(From my poetry collection 'The Nameless Avenue') 

Delight and the drums

The drummer in the rear

of a festive gait

prefers a briefing pause,

abrupt without a cause.

Mood of the marching crowd

finds  a void in the tiresome road

of  approach to a shrine;

carrying a goddess  to Her domain.

“Drum it up, drum it up ; they cry;

don’t allow a brawl to pry;

free us from being grim,

fitting to temporal trim."

The drum  strikes an influence,

binding them in confluence.

When delight fingers the drum

mind is full to the brim.

Whole thought is a theatre

where wars seek a matter,

threatening men to shatter;

curtain follows later.

Better drum better dance

to the rhythm of beats

to forget we're beasts

Velako demands feats 

Delight summons dancing

concord offers  chancing;

the drummer begins a start;

for time is always short.

to raise  the goddess on dais

Vaiyavan