It all seems surreal, each time we meet,
fellow travelers , familiar strangers;
She , with all the miles behind her,
I , a lost soul in-search of direction.
Our paths meet often, almost fated,
just as I get anxious, afraid;
She greets me gently with a smile,
as if she was waiting for me to arrive.
Awe-struck at first, I follow her around,
she lets me, a little amused;
And eventually a conversation ensues,
in a wordless flow begins her story.
Born off what she breathes through now,
mountains shape her, like she shapes them;
For her no beginning, nor an end,
just an ever-changing her, an eroding them .
“But how ?” I wonder to myself
as meandering gives way to a fall
And almost as if reading my mind,
she laughingly , shows her way.
Neither proud nor clueless of her forms,
she was at peace with her soul;
For never have I known a fall so bright,
falling not with fear , but with a roar.
A roar so loud , it silences noise,
A roar so bold , it scares all fear;
A fall so free, it makes you fly,
A fall so deep, it breaks barriers.
With this force of the fall,
I see her climb up, wiser, stronger;
Rounding off all that’s sharp,
flowing over all that’s not.
And up there , she stays a while,
A pool of emerald and gems in light;
Giving life to all around her,
free of bondage, any kind.
prayaas 