Dripping slowly in the vast sand
Shimmering gold in the quiet land
A tinkling whisper can be heard
Of a soul separated from its herd
Asking his master, if by chance
He has been stuck in this trance
If this isolation, is his choice ?
Where howling wind, the only voice
These wavy ripples on the sand
Carries the pulsating time band
Swirling patterns of highs and lows
Under moonlights and fire blows
Stood for a while, the puzzled traveller
Amused by his presence, in land another
Searched a soul far off, for a direction
Then dawned upon him an old revelation
We all have our own manifestations
As every path has its own destination
Copyright (c): Dr. Nikhat Bano
14.8.2015, New Delhi, India
All Rights Reserved.
Image Credit: FB
An exquisite ,allegorical , enriching poem.