On trees, birds and lofty things

How wonderful it is, to glow under a February sun! To let your leaves, yellow and green turn a shade of gold. To stand still and let your bare branches frame a sky – serene and blue. To shelter birds of different tunes, to exist and merely be. And in that, to find purpose. How glorious it is, to be a tree!

How liberating it is, to soar over that tree! To fly to places where your wings can take you. To feel the wind under your feathers. To see the essence of life beneath you – the incessant movement. To perch on the windows of homes put together with love and care. To go back to that golden tree. Always. How delightful it is, to be a bird!

How humbling it is, to be a part of that incessant movement! To be able to stay a while and watch the sun set. To own your life and revel in your being. To watch life pass by all around and to know that all hearts beat the same. To find a reason to smile and to be at peace. How marvelous it is, to be alive!

How magnificent it is to light up the world! To rise and set for no reason at all. To paint the sky and to give life. To be worshiped and to inspire. But how limiting it is to be that indifferent sun. To exist without being aware. To bear witness to the drama of life, but to not know.

How fitting it is that what I tell myself is the meaning of my life! My purpose, my freedom, my home, my peace and my being – all stories I have told myself.

Those nights that I met with rain

Those nights that I met with rain,
Quietly slipping past
Wooden doors that held behind
Stately, sheltered lives;
At every step and every turn,
I stumbled upon
Puddles of moonlight
Discovering anew the world;
Those nights that I met with rain,
I watched with delight –
the majestic sway
Of leaves drenched with life.

Between dusty corners
were recollections
Of all my days and nights reside,
The rain, the leaf and the moonlight
Paint a picture, vivid and bright –
That is my childhood to me.

Today, I looked around
At all the trappings of my life
And wondered whether it would be
The coat or the tie
Or the clock by the bedside
That would define – my adulthood to me.

I took a pen and then redrew
Everything that was me.
It rained.
And I now have,
The leaf and the moonlight
Within me.