A NOMAD’S QUEST.
Walking without a path in mind
Drifting across the many clouds.
With nothing specific for the mind to find;
Looking out for ruins and lands.
The night sky shone;
Lit by a lonely moon;
Drawing to the beauty;
Of the stillness of the night.
The sound of the cricket’s chirping;
The silence in the cold breeze.
The mystery within,
Blending with the darkness.
Awoken by ripples of a brook,
Giggling and teasing as it flows.
I see fresh life beginning;
With rise of the sun, and
Flight of a bird, to hunt.
The breeze blows gently
Rustling the pale autumn leaves.
I bow down to the water,
Feeling its chill
With palms beneath.
The stream flows through,
Tranquil and at peace
Making way for all the lives in it.
I see life: in its myriad manifestations
And wonder where we differ?
I walk through the gardens,
I climb through the hills
I walk through the dunes
I swim through the seas.
I see cultures, I see religions
I see health, I suffer the sickness.
I see the smiles, feel the tears.
Oh! My friend, where do we differ?
Isn’t this groundless?
Isn’t this an ignominy?
I see the cleric preach; I ask:
Are thou so blinded:
That thou can’t see; we are one?
Like the river flowing through:
Like the moon lighting a path
I know not where I belong:
But, for every patch of grass,
I’ve laid my feet on.
Thus a nomad’s quest