Mother of all mountains

A long train journey
through dull cityscapes,
and dry deserts of humanity.
There wasn’t much outside to see,
but within there were landscapes
waiting to be trekked on.
There were mind-scapes
waiting for their contours to be drawn.
So I pulled the shutters down
and set out on a journey within.
As my body moved along the railway tracks,
my pen did on the smooth landscape
of an ivory cartridge paper, 150 GSM.
It all started with a dot,
that became a line,
that soon turned into a swirl,
that transformed into patterns
colliding, mingling, merging,
running across, parallel, converging.
The art-scape became my world
my pen my own private jet
and we explored our private world
until we met the Mother of all Mountains –
from behind her face peaceful
a yellow sun rose.

7 copy

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