Time

Time is an endless corridor where I wander, blindfolded,

guided towards the light by the sound of your voice,

Time is an endless wait through a night of sleeplessness,

Time is the plaintive sound of unspoken words, creaking along endless nights within a haunted forest,

Time is a rain drenched meadow on a primeval hillside,

on a windy day whispering of kings and men,

or a sandy walk along a shallow seashore,

amidst the noisy splashing of strangers.

Time is a bunch of unruly wildflowers,

nurtured by a cloudy green hillside,

or a prayer flag in the wind

Time is a dull afternoon spent in somnolent silence,

or in wordless ecstasy on a crowded train ride.

Time is a half remembered moment on a dim winter evening.

Aparajita