The Epic of Ushika at the 3100-mile race

This is a short or long story

About a a Hermit brave and a Rishi sweet

from Rig Veda of now or yore

Who were walking down the street.

Most precisely,

They were walking down nigh

Grand Central Parkway,

just behind Thomas Edison High.

One seemed to be running,

But that is just from a distance wide;

A savvy onlooker will quickly

Ascertain the wanning-ralking stride.

Anyway in lack of topic and alms

For usual conversation or filmscreen

They wandered surreal realms

Of rubber, skin salves and ice cream

Delving deep into the world

Of perilous mobile surfing

Credit card issuing on hold

Hopes for proper shoes vanishing

Realms of blister, and of chafe,

And of sun and concrete hard

Ever lightened by valiant Max

The Hermit’s squire and bard,

To safeguard the promise and duty

Of now, the Race of Eternity

Halfway into the darkest dungeon

Also brings the Hermit one,

The Worshipper of Dawn,

Halfway into the Light Divine

But… nowhere the end at hand!

Well, Tis´ not for one to know where

He will get, for one thus surrendered

Is rather taken somewhere, doesn´t go.

Oh, yet!,

The one chosen now strides aloft

The hope of completeness soft

The goal seemingly unattainable

Suddenly beckons the able

For what Grace one is due in ruth

Tis’ not for one to know

Grace is swift and strong, its truth

Alighting on sweated brow

By hearkening to the call

One was already destined

To the heirloom divine:

Guru´s Divine Love for all,

The very end of all in All.

—————————————-

from the book:

Tales from the Vedas: the Rishi and the Hermit

Banana-Leaf Publications 13700 B.C.