A Walk

In the roadside natural park, Porcheville, France

The initial a couple of months and half went in a melee of personal straits--the hardship of getting adjusted to the new makeshift sort of dwelling when an acute longing could be felt at every step to go back, but where; when a respite of time, space and distance for doing something was like the possibility of stealing a peek towards the other way during a point blank distance face off--but the later almost a couple of months had in store the cushioning tenderness during when a refueling happened to read and express in some way. But the latest 25 days in the new place was another probation but during when there were in store those intermittent moments for straightening oneself so far... The predominant numbness that veils and distorts is like an iron monolith before and that's what to fight against even with the left over meager strength.

A call yesterday was like a summon, a miracle that let me scan myself wholly and ponder over: to let go so or go there at the lesser familiar lair to put myself at its disposal as it wishes so, thinks that I can play a role there. A sort of savior can it be? Who doesn't need a savior? But the true savior with golden halo, deeply embedded amid the self-created quagmire, is too dim to light over the present darkness.

A thirst to quench,

A moment of respite,

When a feeling despite,

Like a drop out wrenched.

Mouthing a sincere prayer,

Less self, a jumble sleeps,

Glimpse thee in peeps,

A moment yonder.

In those words like the mirrors,

When a self-portrait is set,

When a line fits mind-set,

A swelling joy wave pats the sailor.