My Land of Peace!

“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”
―from The Prophet by Khalil Gibran

…and I slowly opened my eyes to a wide teal-ish vivid undimmed sky, which seemed to have come closer to me just to greet and entwine its fanciful hands to wrap me into its serenity and poetic clinch. I hardly realized that I was bare foot, lying on bare flabby pricky patch of grass; with my long locks lying on the ground and my torso away from its being. I saw that multi-hued butterfly seamlessly fly above my face, trying to tease me, play with me or just trying to give me company in this bare pleasant burnished part of the day. I couldn’t miss those rare little birds chirp, trying to create a melody and articulating a flairy jinx. The same butterfly got confused with the floral print of my frock and started playing with it thinking that it’s her favorite flower. And then suddenly withdrawing thinking I don’t know what, but again getting drawn into the newness of the same artificial favorite flowery frock.

I was there after a long gap of a lifetime. It felt as fresh as a splash of ice cold water on a sunny sandy land. It felt like heaven…oh no like paradise…umm no…like a godlike place…no…I can’t delineate how it felt to be amongst the silent crowd of the soundless strain of lyrical tune. I walked towards the spring of the glittery shiny stream. I stretched my legs and sat on the soft patch to live through the cold tune of the wavy dancing waves.  Slowly tilted myself towards the lazy stream and ran through my fingers and played with the water. Just as I did that, witnessed the most beautiful picturesque visual brownie. The still wavy lyrical stream danced in a single plain beautiful string with the reflection of the maple tree on the propelling move.

Suddenly my attention was captured by the mustard patch which my vision got tired of looking at the end or the edge. It was huge, as huge as the open sky exposing a plethora of varicolored hues, windy euphony, sparkly splashes and what not. I ran my floral scarf through the mustard lyrics and saw a beautiful sun shine with lot of pride. I was happily tired expressing, witnessing and feeling amazed by the beauty and I lied down on the heap of harvested mustard. Thud! I lied down and saw a few chirpy minute birds fly away, they laughed and they were shy. I smiled back too. I shared my secrets with the tickling wind and the wind did reply in its own flair. We laughed and it echoed, we shared and it got reflected, altogether a mesmerizing painting splashed with the colors of all emotions portrayed.

…and as my thirst got quenched I closed my eyes again.

“Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?
The aggrieved and the injured say, 'Beauty is kind and gentle.
Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.'
And the passionate say, 'Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.
Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us”- Khalil Gibran