Up in the pine, far behind lap of glacier, freezing woods having fairytale world.Temperature falls down below expectation. The wind, up in the sky shivers. The night praises noisy creatures.Crystal sky grasping starry murmur terrifying mountain forest in mysterious mirth. Between all of them a newly born river quietly is flowing. Over uneven rocks ,its rough landscape, her transit is pure and musical, sounding old school choir.
Thousand miles top of the hill is covered in white snow sheet, along thick gray clouds above. Green russet blueish landscape pouring down,whispers into jhim jhim jhim. One group of white bear is a regular visitor. Drinking, playing and showering each other in the chilling water when fishing is pleasure, their family time in river cracking deep midnight silence. Unknown animals at far, in the pine howling,that banged on rock to rock all over sleepy cold mountain. Noises echoing rhythmic.
Driving herself unstoppable river leaves top land for lifetime. Distant calls, she takes first step after birth by her leaving. In every minute, she leaves every single memory of homelands, whether she likes or dislikes.
From old dust,from an idea of someone’s, I take birth. From serving unfair stupidity, from the old clutter clearance, from depth of lights,hidden in dusk, I born in God’s boredom.I Born to impartial world, call me anyways but do not forget to call a writer with soft little touch in hushed tone in my name. Call me whatever. I’m the writer of your civilization, meeting folklore in tribal village that distancing, misplaced, or alluring livelihood. Such sources could be origin of my name.Call me river. Then together we will find why we’re attracted to a distant ocean obvious.
Distant hills allured distance in willingness being closer. To be off vision later moving away, distant appears.I get to see, heart loses inner imagination blur images of homeland and distance becomes a word, difines absence. Dusky airy mast dashingly performs at a distant stage to the star up and the land below, abyss in heart, mind.
Long Island in the summer over sands mile after miles, no one wants.Long grays on the earth,same summer realms in meadows. Distant brings back again and again vivid perception’s calling. Season takes off despair and gifts brighter life to distant hills. So river flows under soil, none notice.
There are some faces,emotionless,expression less. Difficult to make out they’re sad or happy, joking or serious ,not even they look robotic. And Mind gets alarms of extra miles afford.
Trouble begins.How to start? Greets or no? Smile or just to be statued? Worrisome situations can spoil the purpose for getting together! Somefaces are almost similar anywhere anytime I can bump on. Therefore it’s time to switch on over tricks of intelligence.
Most interesting, these people know about their stillness. They are also enthusiastic regarding my say, first or at the end.Silly it is. I think awareness makes them more still. Recently I’ve checked, few of the global politicians have similar confusing faces. Absolutely having no clue if it’s expressing anger or celebrating victory speech. Some voices are planning for controlling flows of water and way down towards sea on my travel. Journey is mine, I born into nature,understand now I do not own me. I do not want to mention name because most will agree for similar names chosen by me.
There are some people,so much covered head to toes, seeing them you may feel suffocating. There are some, minimum clothes,my sense says having taste to show skin maximum. I bring to them both taste of a glass of water mastering rain, cleaning heart in summer.
Obviously eyes move here and there, escaping personal permission. They are confusing also regarding ‘ shall I mention beauty or pass on to the next queue! On the way i am, a river meet variety of plain land.
then want to say NO
but shaking head to
sorry beats my throat
shallow unwanted bitterdom
none sees truth in eyes
‘cuz I’m in shade
blur blue dazzles
when right things away
when wrong holds on mistake
want to say NO
then why nodding head for YES
I do not know
Stillness of face and over dress sense, are two situations, I prefer to elope with imagination in any distant sea. Therefore unfortunately if I get involved, I choose my face to be robotic, intend to create puzzles and end up in brief conversation. Things I do not want, things I dislike, being river i too express, you do not believe I have a voice too. There are some always present, then live always at distant. Treating me like I am not alive, though I born after natural process on this blue planet, is keeping me drying day by day.
Morning has a habit cuddling itself. Falling slow, moving twisted, walking in form of dance in the rain, lazy to catch up with speed of the day. Some morning sway against will, twists, kicks, pushes in speed of light nearly. Suddenly that is evening or mid night before touching a true youthful noon. I wake up in ferryman’s calling, fishing boat ready to leave river bank. I speed up for ocean.
song has broken
the piano do not speak again
that sparrow dreams of bird yellow
flee to golden sunland
morning wakes up in falling
depression on the dry hard mud
hearing first rain calling
last hour never gonna happen twice
an seasonal peon rang September
arranging before September
Leaf seems to be on the bough for a while. Then autumn season has to be part.It defines seasonal falling. Russet hues distant itself from fallen leaf. Some of us grow too fast before first white hair. We distant from life that’s real worthy. Few gets chance for erasing distance within. We’re forced to get old inside us shaping distant. Heart warns every second. Wise wind messed up, spring takes farewell in excuse, let us walk towards opposite side beyond distant within self from self, before we get back to self. I pass closer, no one has time for flowing river, no one touches stream, alone autumn offers companionship. On my stream like a poem autumn leaves are travelling.
A leaf crawls itself
a ribbon opened up before
drown to deeper interval
constant humming of echos
at the bay of sweet forever
seems carrying pieces of
the entire tree in her
Let us come over at the river bank.A group of sheep making day useful. During day valley looks like a new bride. Bees in the air, musical. Song of birds chorus delighted in lucid atmosphere.
Getting company in day, river is faster than last night. Tall ego of pine oak hovers and forms often wall stopping sunshine, catching up each other’s bough fencing barricade.Thin sun giggles through branches when people in valley come to collect woods and honey.
Distance grows in every second. River leaves foot marks and moves on. Despair touches her often remembering homeland mountain.And she never looks back, has left behind. Woman is leaving her homeland, in a search for home at distant.
There is no single table and chair to sit. There is no house, no notebook on bookshelves. She reads night laying on mud as if time flows in space. She walks unstoppable during the sun, in crowd like a dead. She preserves wounds in deep. Comforts natural stairs at distant. Times go on along. I see her young, in hopes she arrives, also disappear in sudden blink. On the way she joins me.
And that Iron chair
before old wooden spoon seater
used to be young
many falls at backyard
an old faded cup
fellow to coffee or tea
signature of plain windy whispers
they have a tale to speak up
Distant, is it a home far away from home? River borns in hill running to sea, who is waiting dearly. Racing on rocks, jumping over ups and downs, nourishing nature, chasing life through narrow pathways in the valley, saying first hello to pines gathering, facing harsh long dirty pleasure and fun. Journey is alone for distant to distant. There is woman in each river. There is a woman in its journey.
Uncertainty lying before, cloud comes too down, falls heavily and washed off dreams, and beauty of life she thought certain in eternity. Icicles has disappeared and river follows call of desert land. Too much alterations, expectations closing route. Yet river runs through.
A teenager she is travelling hill fearlessly,careless of snow, dares summer, adding to tribes, culture. Indigenous heart she speaks of language of native ancient. She is learning freedom,adopt distancing from bondage, custom and barriers. Letting go memories forever in the mountain woods, rising to the southern gateway passage,finding home in ocean. Resources of love she carries till end. River distances home to be at home.
Plain lands wrapped in various expressions often barren wasteland like an artist waits for a perfect nature.Time passing, river too growing, narrow, wide and wise.Like a woman in silence living in her heart distancing from chaos. On the way she becomes worthy day by day.
Pilgrims,cities,villages flooding few,error struggle ships, in journey seem heavy on her chest.Silent unstoppable in joy, river soon would see sea.