The Path She Walks

By Anish Kumar

The path she walks, blooms in silent praise,

Each step a prayer, each breath a blaze.

The wind holds still to hear her pass,

The dust turns gold, the stone to glass.

Where her feet fall, dreams rise and dance,

The world awakens from its trance.

Even shadows long for her light,

Even silence echoes her flight.

Touch a stone, and it turns to gem,

Such is the grace she leaves in them.

Touch a soul, and it begins to sing,

Of a love more real than anything.

For she is wealth, not found in gold,

Not in stories the ancients told.

She is the wealth that gods would seek,

And men like me die for, week by week.

I am the poor, undone and bare,

But rich in love because she’s there –

Not in arms, not in sight,

But in soul, in dream, in endless night.

Call me mad, call me blind,

Call me a fool who lost his mind –

But if to love like this is to fall,

Then let me fall, for I have her – my all. 

By Anish Kumar