Wednesday, February 8, 2017

In between all those patterns


But of course I was working
All this while
I was travelling yes
Like a Wanderer.
Mission Faqiri
I called the drive.
But I was working as well
Side by side.
Unknowingly
Where my heart resides.
I was promoting travel
The one I consider
As my religion.
I was adorning, sharing
Places
Which offer nature
Which are my temples.
Away from reality
Which feel
More real.
I was talking to stars
Turning to myself
My cosmic power.
I was empowering
My silent words
With depth, with wisdom.
But of course
I was working
In the silent time
Passed by.
With no records
Of imprints
Upon the sand
By waves and wind.
But of course
I was thinking.
That was big work
It left me often
Awe-stuck.
Jaw opened I observed
The patterns.
Muted by time
At times
Chattering big time
Some times.
Words changed shapes.
Hollow then heavy weight.
Aah! The gyres.
They leave you
With nothing in hand.
That nothingness
Was not light.
It was quite heavy
For the mind.
Here I dance again
While whirling to
Another line
Of some pattern
Some web
Some gyre.
And it will take a turn again
I don't know when.
A golden moon
Merged in clouds
Upon my terrace
Behind an ocean
Above a mountain.
It keeps rotating.
But of course I was working
In between
All these patterns.

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