once was a sapling now grew so free.
An old monk looking through the grills;
prayer flags blowing like curtain frills.
A monastery below the mountain peaks,
where he fed so many hungry beaks.
He never knew from where he came;
found in a bin cast away by a dame.
What a lustful woman wilfully threw -
in a monk's house with love he grew.
With foster parents he grew up fine -
a runt, that so humanely did entwine.
The woman knew not what she lost -
leaving divinity to perish in frost.
Even an oyster does not give its pearl
as all around it does tightly curl.
Somewhere Almighty gave a frown -
in due time a holy soul got his crown.
Prasenjit©2022
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