Time rather crawls among these quiet hills.
Perhaps when he strolled along harvested fields
He was struck by the majesty of green rising peaks
That mock our flux with most ancient calm
And lost track of ways he had mapped.
Or perhaps gazing on snow-mountain caps
That hung atop valleys as wizened old sages
He had puzzled himself with their foreign lore
And therein was caught again late.
It even could have been the full blooming rose,
Or many other petals of captivating colours
That brighten these greens with fragrance and charm
And halt a man sharp in his tracks.
Even at night, when in cold-chilling dark
The wonders of day are quietly asleep,
The twinkles of lights from faraway folds
Meshed with the fabric of star-sprinkled sky
Arrest our gaze as magnets on top
And stall our progress too long.
Or may be just brushed by the buffets of wind
He stood with his curls or tall-tousled hair
And breathed in the whispers of God.
Time rather crawls among these quiet hills,
Here in the land of Buddha and his peace.
17 comments:
Beautiful poem and spectacular photos, Abin. Are you visiting?
I have never been to this place ... but will surely go there once ... have heard a lot about it :-)
The pace had a gentle, pulsating breath throughout. Well done.
That magnet line was perfect and quite original. I also enjoyed the opening notion of nature mocking someone.
Your work continues to stand out, I always look forward to it.
This is one of your best, Abin. I love the interplay in your narrative perspective: the third person journey, and the speaker's commentary in plural first person:
He was struck by the majesty of green rising peaks
That mock our flux with most ancient calm
And lost track of ways he had mapped..
This is deeply philosophical, and speaks to man's ongoing connection with god through nature.
yes, gorgeous and if time rather crawls and allows for this kind of verse, please stay and write some more to share with us.
Beautiful photos and such a feeling of peace in your words. So glad to see your writings again.
It even could have been the full blooming rose,
Or many other petals of captivating colours
That brighten these greens with fragrance and charm
And halt a man sharp in his tracks.
Avidly describes how one can be distracted with beautiful things that come our way. It's not a crime is it! Nicely Abin!
Hank
So beautiful. If only we could all just slow down. Practice living as we should instead of existing.
This is a lovely, lovely read.
This is beautiful, Abin. I feel as if, through your words, I have encountered the spirit of Bhutan!
Sounds like a sweet place to lose your map.
I spend half the day inside the four walls of my office, and this poem makes me just wish for a vacation to such a place, where its serene, calm and relaxing for both mind and soul. The poem leaves a mark, and that's brilliant to experience. Thanks!
a very beautiful poem which breathes throughout. Like mountain air.
nice - you take the reader I a perfect journey
What a peaceful journey you took me on with your words. Beautiful.
Sounds like a beautiful place to be!
I love all the scenery you present us with. Beautifully described Abin.
Great poetry/prose...Beautiful photos!
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