In a serene dale I walked,
Walked as I hadn’t for years,
Testing the aroma of the dew fresh air,
Hand in hand with a friend unknown.
There were blossoming flowers,
Untouched – that reigned in the bed of stones,
Looking at me with a glow of warmth,
“Come, feel me, I am sure to love you.”
Bending upon them and eyeing those whorls,
Whorls of elegance encompassing fragrance,
I moved on as though my friend beckoned.
Strikingly green was the vernal dale,
In its veracity and calmness and love,
I felt as though I was an impure speck,
A truant in the innocent glen.

In an invigorating cove, cascaded through,
A cataract, fresh and pure,
Full of energy, breath, and cracking glory,
Into the gurgling waters and pebbles,
Charming the lucid stream and,
Sprinkling a wondrous gaiety, I was
Reminded of my cold, sluggish indolence,
“I ain’t fit to salute you.”
I walked on…

Then came that giant tree,
Like a patriarch it stood, guiding,
The subservient, the meek, the inarticulate;
Holding the nested birds in motherly warmth,
Branching its way into advancing air,
Uniting at the crown with the cerulean sky,
Breaking a mystic, unadorned impertinence,
That rather soothed the grass and wavy breeze,
And holding its head high, it said,
“Come to me and lie down, I am here,
For you, forever.” So inviting, so selfless,
I turned away, lest I should see a mirror,
The forbidden glass, I had annihilated ago.

With weary eyes, I trod along,
Weeded carpets had spread on the ground,
Like wedded ropes, never to separate,
So profound in love, so staunch in tenacity,
I was awed; I gazed and gazed,
Till I lost myself. Night had sunk,
The moon rose in galvanising splendour,
Emanating comets of brilliance to infinity,
And the stars just bowed in obeisance,
To the bewitching simplicity of the dell,
A moss-decked stone lay a few paces by,
I gave my head a place – too high,
Sleeping as I hadn’t for years,
Curled like a hibernating animal,
Folding my own existence to oblivion,
In the arms of this anonymous friend.

Dawn brought to me, an enormous despair,
A fear of losing that, which I never gained,
An emptiness shrouded my heart as though,
Amidst the unknown I was with myself,
And would lose myself if I stole away.
Arising, as I had to, into a mood,
Of suppressed anxiety, I picked up a sallow leaf,
That had cracked to brownness,
Amidst blended green, with a tender broken stick,
It was the mirror I had destroyed,
I was doomed as I felt it said,
“If my dying existence could extricate your pain,
Wield me as though I belonged to you,
For what use would be my authenticity,
If it gave not another a comforting gain.”

There was fullness in that chasm,
Away from the honking glamour of the manned world,
It taught me patience and tolerance,
Which I never entertained since my birth,
It taught me sometimes to look,
Into myself and clear away cobwebs,
To usher in the fabulous expanse of unmatched joy,
To crush those weakening forces,
That broke the mirror you wished to see,
To lambaste the alarming ego that,
Haunted your fruitful existence.

Throwing a myriad glances at that friend,
I thought I knew, but never confirmed,
I left her soon, lest I rot her purity,
And returned to my stinking den,
Of blowing, animated thoughts and actions,
To create, as I had tried, a world,
Of gleaming harmony, that sank,
In concrete love.

I bade goodbye to my dale,
The breeze swept a coat,
Of enterprising armour into my stale being,
And I walked on to embrace,
The legacy of ancestral eternity.