my nomadic thoughts

often meander

slipping easily from

highways to bylanes

through carpeted fields of

wild flowers

yellows and reds

soothing

like the song

I always hum

 

now and then

they gallop back in time

nostalgic

reliving childhood once again till

original innocence

had lost out to

educated cunning

 

every once in a while

drunk on depression

they stagger

struggling

to stand upright

 

unbalanced they

fall into gutters

unaware of the stench or

the roaches or

the rats

they lie there in

contempt of themselves

the filth

cathartic

 

at times

my thoughts

in pleasant shades of joy

hitch a ride on the clouds

soaring high over the world

blissful

at one with the gods

they

hail the sun

talk to the breeze

sleep on the moon

calm and serene

 

exhausted

sometimes exhilarated

my prodigal thoughts

return home to me

slipping quietly back

into the crevices

of my

still mind.

 

Elizabeth Kuriakose