Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Sunday, July 21, 2019

Daughter of hills

You see,
I was born in hills,
those lofty middle Himalayas
that hold untold sunrises
and that ring with life.
They exist.
And they hold this secret
of existence
in their core.
Beyond all struggle.
Beyond all death.
Beyond all beginnings.
Observing everything,
in its nakedness.
Staying silent.
Persistent.
Absorbent.
Continuous.
Mighty patient.
Impressively calm.
Even in raging chaos.
Savage at times.
Unrestrained and ferocious.
And since I was born in hills,
mayhaps I inherit
the wisdom of mountains,
their priceless blessings,
in my blood and soil.
Yes! I hold the mountains
within me
and the mountains
cradle my spirit.


No comments:

Post a Comment

Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.