To not think my dear, but feel
To not move, poor man, but flow
Not too fast my friend, walk a little slow.
Those rustling light pats of wind,
Were strong currents for my soul
And dragged my soul away from my body
Dragged my soul, into an altered state of consciousness
Into a transient nirvana
Where I can hear the silence
In this silence,
I can hear myself
In myself,
I can hear those thousands of poems,
Inside my heart which are creeping
And in those poems,
I can hear the words of the wind
Silently whispering its own meaning.
Suddenly I started understanding what the wind was telling me
The guardian of the ancient sand, was reciting poems of its own
A poem, about the vast frozen sea of sand,
Unmoved, paused, stationary, frozen in time
Goldened by the mighty sun,
Carved with the footprints of wind
Sand sea, whose wave of sand dunes flow
Not too fast my friend, but a little slow.
A poem, about the night sky
Which is like an infinitely wide vast tree above
Whose dark leaves bear twinkling fruits called the stars
And sometimes, somewhere in between
A holy glowing bird, named moon
Flies through the night, across the sky
And pours his blessings to the dark earth
Pours his blessings, while the whole night it glows
Not too fast my friend, but a little slow
A poem, about the salt brush plants
Floating in the sea of sand,
Though scarce water,
But still under the soaring sun they do grow,
But not too fast my friend, a little slow
Everything around me,
Became words, with which the wind recited thousands of poems to me
Gust after gust, slowly slid across my face
And dissolved my soul into the heart of the desert,
Into the present
Into the treasured moment of my day
Then something came into my heart
And a feeling unknown seized my steps
And made me stand and see the whole desert,
Face to face; see the desert which is tinted with the white moon
And then I told myself
I will not mindlessly glare, but now I will look
I will not think anything, but now I will feel
I will not move, but now I will flow
I started again to walk,
But this time, not too fast my friend
A little slow

By Vibhu Bhola

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A Night Stroll In The Desert

Just Another Man In The Crowd