A winter night's tale
The moon shimmers through the branches
Of the old dry tree beside the meadow
The sky looks gorgeous when compared
To the frozen nerved earth below.
The silence of the calm beneath stares at me,
Still in the terrace-
Eleven times the clock struck the gong
I was still in the tub of song…
A strange melody of an invisible passer-by
Ringing in my ear just endlessly.
Whose frequency’s ripples of symphony
Tinkled my bracelet melodiously?
The silver blanched earth could well rise
But sluggishly appeared grey
And my lips were dry as though dry scrubs
Yet to bloom in May
Is it possible? Is it true?
From that very day-
I started to worship,
The eternal blue.
