Monk’s Farm
In boundless voids where silence reigns,
The Monk sits deep, beyond all chains.
His mind - a cosmos vast, profound,
Where stars are born without a sound.
With eyes half-closed, he shapes the skies,
He dreams in depths where stillness lies.
Each breath, a brushstroke on the dark,
Each thought, a flame, a sacred spark.
He sculpts with silence, builds with grace,
The unseen architect of space.
**
Beyond the cloister, the King takes form,
A force of will, a worldly storm.
He dares, he builds, he rules, he strives,
He breathes the fire that kindles lives.
His hands raise empires from the dust,
His voice commands, his vision trusts.
Yet in his gaze, a yearning gleams,
For the Monk’s stillness, source of dreams.
**
Two paths entwined, both fierce and wise:
One rules the earth, one seeds the skies.
The Monk who dreams, the King who dares,
Together shaping what no one bears.
A dance of shadow, sun, and flame,
Of thunder whispered in silence’s name.
Mountains rise and oceans part,
Where wisdom meets the daring heart.
In the hush between two heartbeats' call,
Their spirits rise, they shape it all.
The cosmos bends to unseen hands,
A world conceived in silent lands.
The Monk, the King-design and deed,
The thought, the act, the root, the seed.
**
Shiva dreams in still retreat,
While Shakti moves with dancing feet.
He is the void, the sacred night,
She is the dawn, the birthing light.
Together they sow, together they reap,
The harvest of time from fathoms deep.
And so the world, in rhythm spun,
Is not of two-but forged as one.
The Monk and the King, in truth aligned,
The dreamer and the doer, intertwined.
A legacy etched in stars and stone-
Where thought becomes flesh, and soul finds throne.
**