There’s something pristine about how the sun adds color to the sky at dawn, and how the sky lights up during dusk. To poets, the sea and the sun and the sky tell many tales; I see strength in the permanency of their actions. How they are on repeat, day after day, night after night, sprinkling hope and whispering promises. Let us then, take a moment out, to watch. To watch the azure, red, yellow and violet shades of the sky. Let’s call it a closure in a grand way. Let’s wake up to beautiful mornings. Let’s chase sunsets.
It has been a beautiful start to the day. The sun kissed tree tops reflect off the shimmering green on to a sky that’s so blue that your eyes will hurt, with a few scattered tufts of white. The slanting sun rays touch softly and playfully upon the tops of the buildings making them look magical. The peaks of the nearby hills stand out in vivid contrast to the blue sky and the thin mist. Where the sun is, there are supporting elements of purple and pink skies… The whole atmosphere seems mystical, those once-in-a-rare-while kind of moods. Nature has welcomed monsoon. Time for us to do so
The beach. The rocks. The fine sand and gravel beneath the feet. The feel of sand slipping away from under the soles, that of sand getting washed away with water. The sound of the waves. The gurgling of the sea…the sun beating down on the bodies, mellow, sometimes a bit harsh.
The ‘feel’ of listening to the nature, the wind and the water playing a merry game between themselves, unbeknownst to the people splashing about at the water’s edge, unbeknownst to the kids flying colourful kites, swaying their little, lithe bodies as the kite dances to the winds’ music…unbeknownst, to us who break into a smile watching the waves’ display, watching the kids’ play, sifting through our fingers, fine grains of sand, smooth, yet coarse, simple, but holding the secrets of time… I wonder what the rocks by the sea shore would say, if they are gifted the power of expression, the kind which is understood by humans. They lie, silent witness to the happenings of the world around them. They know the birds that circle them, they know the scents that the winds bring to them. They know the stories of the oceans as they all meet, they hear, quietly, the secrets of the people adoring the sea face, their desires, ambitions, shortcomings, failures, and perhaps smile to themselves, as they know that the people, as their worries, will be lost in eternity, and one day, cease to be.
The damp but firm rocks, barriers against the unforgiving sea, collude the ocean itself. Beckoning, yet mysterious, protective yet capable of unleashing terror, holding in its belly the years long gone by; hundreds of years that have been, and the hundreds that will be.
Looking at the vast expanse of water, and the sky above, the clouds, moving towards the meeting point, the horizon, thoughts cease, and the mind falls into a pattern of enjoying what was before nothing existed. Perhaps the horizon isn’t a limitation, perhaps it is only what we can see, versus what actually is. The sea, the sky, the fine grains of sand – inspirations, always.
(P.S. This be one of my 1st attempts at poetry writing. All the poets and non-poets alike, please pardon me!)
So softly did the river flow,
Smooth, in its unwavering path…
So silently did the wind blow,
Unruffled, through the meadows below…
It was a song that came out of his heart
Lyrical, carefree, but with a tinge of gloom.
It spoke of the battles of a lovelorn heart,
It spoke about the Vikings of the past,
It sang about the willowy fields yonder,
It dreamed of a surreal past…
Long forgotten tales,
Of dedication, sacrifice, love,
It sang to the boy,
Making him smile,
Through tears of joy.
As he looked yonder,
At the beauty ahead,
The willowy fields, the muttering trees
A falcon mounted up in the sky,
Its eyes telling tales of joy
Now all was fun, now all was glee,
Even though the wind blew silently.
To the boy’s heart it sung a song,
A tale of love, a tale of life.
A touch of red against the drab concrete of the city….makes for a wonderful click, doesn’t it?
Camera – Cannon PowerShot SX160 IS