The epic from Ougri

When we are into them,
and into the places 
of our lasting pursuit,
The world suits an epic 
and we change our figures
as isolated dots.
The size 5 ball gets
As Brobdingnagian as
the May Day Stadium
in Pyongyang, Korea 
It even goes enceinte, 
pregnant-with-meaning way
when we go there, play there 
and study there. If not
the stadium is naught,
Only a commies' bunch  
and their broken nukes itch
our consciousness and nix.


To be is to be comprehended
The lone falling tree makes no sound
in the middle of the jungle
Yet we find a thousand reasons
why the falling of a big tree
in the middle of the market
shook the whole world. For that matter,
A million men made the needles 
A chip can store your history.
Some say the road spreads out longer
And it's true when we hit the road 
of our interest, an epos
The world slowly translates into.

A note on Ougri:

An anonymous and undated poetry in archaic 
Meeteilon, Ougri, it is believed to be written 
in the pre-Christian era. It is used as a 
ceremonial hymn and can be heard especially 
during Lai Haraoba. Ougri is also known as 
Leiroi Ngongloi Eshei. (Wikipedia) 


The lines of the first part of Ougri comprise 
six syllables each while those in the second 
part has eight syllables. (E-pao.net) I have tried 
to merge this syllablic style in the above verse! 


And I have taken the title to signify an 
awareness—the fierce winds of knowledge that 
rush toward us when we dig into any 
known/chosen areas of interest. 

We grew up listening to the trance-type musical
rendition of Ougri, accompanied by traditional
instruments early monsoon every  year. It had been
just another peculiar feature of our culture/folk music.
But when we seek its meaning, a score of Googles
and Lycoses and Bings is not even suffice to provide us
its substance nor its significance.