There she is, a friend at window,
Calling me for a ride amidst meadow
Pulling me out of labyrinth and duty,
Takes away from worries, amidst reverie,
A hypnotic vision of Nature bare,
With sounds swimming in musical fair,
Such an ecstasy far from the hour,
Like the dreams of an Indian Woman, or embrace of a lover.
Drags soul to oblivion of melee in a flux towards sky making it free,
Bathing it in pains? Pleasure?
Like the soul of hemlock sipped Greek scholar.
Who are you? Immortalized by bards,
Answer me here, and land in the swards,
Such a mystery loaded with sounds and flights,
Yet living practically with all the plights,
Bird of Grecian myth without physique,
Are you a natural minstrel or a World’s Critic?
Copyright © Bhimagouda Patil | Year Posted 2022
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