Traveler Of Worlds Unknown

By Abhyuday Kiran Hadal

I sat on the cliff’s edge and watched the sun rise;

It signified the dark-night’s demise;

The fresh grass sang hymns of dew;

And I stared at the clouds wrapped with an imperceivable blue;

A traveler in nomadic clothes sat beside me;

He gently smiled and positioned his hand over his knee;

His destiny was ablaze with desire;

But mine was an endless mire;

He reminisced about his expeditious past;

And I intended to hark, till my ears would last;

First, he apprised me of cities that do not sleep;

I pondered how one could resist the avarice that creeps;

Second, he recounted his time in lands of spring;

Where the trees sway in symphony to the what the winds bring;

The flushed blossoms of the great-timber;

Brought immense pleasure to everyone who awoke from a deep slumber;

Thirdly, he spoke of deserts filled with sand, where scent of unknown spices is tenderly carried by the waft;

Anyone who ignored the invigorating fragrance would surely be daft;

Fourthly, he vividly described the dense viridescent canopies and rolling hills, abode of fauna;

And how the solitary lotus blooms in the murky pond of a terrain as hot as a sauna;

Fifthly, he closed his eyes and reminisced about the lands with snow-capped hills;

I felt sad for the people who had to view everything through a world of glass, behind the window sill.

Finally, he bespoke of lands ridden with disease;

I shuddered as the hope of the people reached me, carried by a breeze;

The sun had set, perhaps from listening to his tales;

It was ashamed by knowing what prevails;

Fresh grass beneath my feet grew cold;

And so did I, for not being bold;

By Abhyuday Kiran Hadal