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Personal Note:
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Poem
To where does my soul belong? 
at times my meandering mind wonders…

Is it to the vast blue of the boundless sky 
or the tangerine rays of the sun at the crack of dawn 
or to those stars that glisten in it when light descends and night ascends?

Is it to the fluttering wings of the luminous iridescent blue butterflies
or the petals of gorgeous tulips that greet me to a dreamy paradise
or to the melodious tinkling of the temple bells in the morning?

It is to the mango tree that I see every day from my kitchen window
or its green leaves, twigs, trunk and roots
or the playful bushy-tailed squirrel 
that scampers from one branch to another
or to the little brown sparrow 
that chirps cheerfully in one of its branches?

Is it to the blank laptop screen that I was staring at a while ago
or these scribbles filling the white screen little by little
or to the flapping of multi-hued wings of my vivid imagination 
that soars high and glides, as I write this poem,
smoothly transgressing the boundaries created by reality?

Is it to the tune of my favorite melody I hum often
or the swing that oscillates in my mind whenever I sing it
or to the breeze through which my humming gently wafts?

Is it to the rhythmic ebb and flow 
of the silvery waves of the cerulean blue sea 
or to the tiny boat far out there, bobbing up and down the waves?

Is it to the gleaming full moon spreading soft light at midnight
or the wick of the flickering candle diffusing hope in darkness
or to the buds finding way to bloom at the trench of rocky soil?

Is it to the relaxed, steady-paced ticking of the needles of time 
or the lull of stillness of the pitch-dark night
or the evanescent dreams I get before sunrise
or to the sweet aroma of coffee waking up my senses in the morning?

Is it to the refreshing drizzle of the memories of childhood
or the pleasant petrichor after the first summer rain
or to the arc of vibrant spectrum of colors of the rainbow that emerges?

Unbound, yet bound….

In the all-pervading cosmic tapestry, 
to where does my soul belong?

What goes on in the mind of the rain drop 
that clings to the tip of a leaf 
and is about to fall to the ground beneath?
“Do I belong to the leaf or to the soil underneath?”
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