Author: Krishna Vashisht

Flitting from a lily to a hyacinth,
The merry bees sing,
Their ballad reaching its crescendo,
On a ukulele’s fragile string.

The wind smiling broadly,
Fresh and full of vigour,
I entrust my heavy heart to it,
Feeling it bruise my melancholy with rigour!

On a fresh tomed sunflower bed,
A thousand suns turn,
And share their worship.
With the one who burns.

I often ask myself,
‘Why do you only seek nature out when you are in pain?’
But the answer lies true,
For I am a human,
And I cannot help but make mistakes.
Again, and again.

Meticulous sunlight cascading over your face,
The subtle stillness of the day.
A sudden motion wakes you up.
Like a bird rising with the yawning sun
And floating into the abyss ahead.

The way you flow, the way you feel –
A radical refection of the world beyond – the blooming flowers, singing flutes.
The cosmos a living, breathing entity bringing you back to yourself.

Bit by bit,
A luminescent universe taking over,
A dancing melody of all you are.
Your inner unity stumbling to surface,
Writing your destiny.

When you take a detour through your veins
And find starlight there –
Relish it,
For you have found your way back to yourself,
For you are a warrior and nobody can take that away from you!