Vivekananda
Silently i pray
he reached me when,
he preached me what ,
how, where, and why
but
unasked like rain from sky ,
unanticipated like a thunder from cloud
the tiny book, in my pocket
thus spake , who ,in my heart
a lion, brave in ochre robes
a saint , with a stick that does not hit
with closed eyes, seeing the universe
with words , swaying the worlds
here is a man living short,
staying for ever
his words are live,
he stays in words
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