I reach the end point

from where the road seems clear

yet vision blurs


The path that brought me up

lies below

sometimes arcane

some parts straight

The bends where reason stumbled

seem childish from this far away.


Vague uneasiness floats around

like wisps of Indian milkweed

No more do peaks refute

but the zenith is a lonely place

and in its silence, a breeze proclaims

nothing is ever absolute…


Goat paths cannot resist grassing over

proud peaks succumb to earthly tugs

A nomadic spirit remains

A lone tenant sans any walls


The song that plays in the wind’s harp

echoes in these valleys with mellow lyrics

softened by the loneliness Time brings with it

Footsteps erased yet delicate shadows nod

a timeless, alluring invite.


The only lines that remain unerased

are the ones that I have drawn

to keep myself safe

from the omnipresent gypsy

chained inside my wanderlust soul.

 ©Reena Prasad August 2012


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