The vast expanse of buttery clouds sets wondering into motion. Do the deep white gorges hide milky waterfalls? Walking across the white field, would I stumble upon a fairyland?
Monkey mind kicks in; perhaps, it's an illusion. A mere song and dance of the mist. It all amounts to nothing. My heart flutes another song. "The clouds may not be how they appear, but does it matter to you?" "Isn't the seed of all science in wondering too?"
I loosen the reins of reason. Let the spectacle trickle from the heart to the mind.
The slow dance of light at the center stage. Hues of reds, blues, and oranges bleed on the rim of the sky.
Silvery swords pierce the pillowy tapestry, revealing shimmery bronze ribbons of rivers. When are the rivers ever golden, bronze, or silver? Lego blocks of concrete, intricate circuitry of human dwellings, and broccoli vegetation. The eyes lap up tokens of truth from the sky. How charmed I am with the Lie!
"The eyes lap up tokens of truth from the sky." This is golden. Such lushness of language in this piece. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Bhaswati for stopping by and your encouragement.
Deletethe last line is so evocative. Enjoyed reading this.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Anannya Ma'am. It's so good to hear from you.
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