The Convergence of Things

Here I am seated
Amidst endless seas
Beneath the blue dome
Within the bounds
Of careless freedom.

Here I am washed
By your absent dreams
Which held promises
Long ago; not here,
Not now.

Here I hold sway over
My estate on rubbles
Of million dispersed 'I's
My fragmented self
scattered like quanta.

Here the leaves gather
and salute aged Nature
Around my dusty feet
Finding comfort and peace
In autumnal austere strength.

Here I pick up rags
Of silhouettes and shadows
And string them with dusk
And evening skies
Of nomadic freedom

Here we separate, branch out
And then bond like one
Amidst green foliages
Of shady cypress and
Tall Eucalyptus trees.


Here we isolate and mourn
The death of rootlessness
And slowly, unwatched
Away from scrutiny and eyes
The gypsy heart grows.