A strange winter that was.
The trees bore no fruits
the skies showed no sign of clouds.
Where have the sky-men gone?
I last saw them dance on the mountain peaks
in their cotton-seed light vessels that floated endlessly.
What a song that was
when prayer flags fluttered in the night skies.
I once saw moon rise from behind the mountain peak
and sing sorrowful serenades to the beautiful valley.
In the city-scape filled with poles
that hold conversations about jobs and new apartments bought.
Where has the carefree noon gone?
A walk alone to where the sky-men lived
a cup of cinnamon coffee,
a winter-flavoured bidi’s warmth
and the truth about why we should live.
they flew on giant inflated sails
against blue skies and floated above the clouds so high.
The lines like strings of a harp
they played a song so silent,
it floated and nestled in my heart.
I carry in my heart, silent song of the sky-men.
I carry in my palm fortunes intangible.
I carry in my heart only love songs of silence.
30,000 feet below,
the rise and fall of lush green landscapes
was slowly replaced with symmetrical patches of predictability.
Where once she stood,
swathed in mist and warm morning sunlight,
stand towers that will perhaps broadcast my elegy.
The wood elf slowly turning into a city hulk.
And my only wish is not to land,
but crash-land into the bosom
of that very viridian valley
plush with the scarlet of rhododendrons.
in whose glory Minivets sang.
On moments resting on
mistful alpine dreams
The moon awakens,
stelliferous new beginnings.
(artwork by IsyLLiS)
Mt. IsyLLiS (Graphite on paper)
I have endlessly wallowed
in strange rivers of pain
that’ll run dry when I want it to.
And today is that day,
for I hear a new song
that birds sing for me.
The sun is out after incessant rains
and birds are sun-bathing,
and they’re all singing the same song.
I am digging a deep hole in the earth,
sowing this seed of suffering and pain.
I’ll water it with my tears.
And what will grow will be
a tree of eternal love and hope.
Birds will build their nests in it,
and they will sing the same song
to their fledglings – of love and hope.
I have become
that very mother of mountains
through which were carved
caves that became homes to creatures of love,
through which flow rivers of hope
that greened all that it touched.
I am that very mother of mountains
and my name is Mt.IsyLLiS.