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Wind Of East

Poetry By: Saaya
Fantasy


An expression of deep feelings..


Submitted:Nov 8, 2011    Reads: 12    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   


The warm Wind of East …traveling…. with the flow of thousands springs of untouched waters, being poured down from the once snow-capped mountains of dormant dreams ……where the sun rises wearing the crown of golden rays of wise glory…shining upon the bent blades of growing grass….humbled by the dew drops of tears fallen from the eyes of unknown heavens……

The Wind of East carrying... the heaviness of bitter pains….separating her from the past of its grace and glory….long lost in the paleness of crumbled pages of the history of silent sufferings….

Descending down …in the valley of sky-aiming minarets of Mosques and Mahals…touching their elegance….. with the corners of her torn veil ……surrounding her like a coffin…..

She sneaks into the red zone of forbidden passions and hears the cry of suffering innocence…..She wipes the tears of starving childhood and kisses its forehead deluded with the clouds of unsure future ….She touches the fateless palms and summons her tears…useless , and un-worthy like rusted coins…..She unties the knots of superstitions wrapped around the branches of religious paradox.. standing like the pyramids of lost culture in the desert of ignorance…She senses the heart beats of her own people bathing in the privacy of worldly desires ….and she can't think anymore...she can't breath in the atmosphere without the oxygen of awareness and understanding….

Deeply despaired…she travel passes the thousand seas of apprehension and reaches the other side of the world…The West…

The Wind of West greets her with a grin and a cold hand-shake…that fills her eyes with fear and gives her a shiver down her spine….but hand in hand… the Wind of East, and the Wind of West …keep exploring the world again…

She keeps her vision higher than the egos of tall walls …and doesn't want her fragile self be bruised by them…but the suffocation in the trapped atmosphere…makes her expand her views…She reaches the beaches but the shame of her own existence pulls her vulnerable and naked-self back inside the core of passive dormancy…

Her blurred eyes see the pollution of skies…pierced all through their bodies with the loops of poisonous smoke…..burning many homes secretly ..with their secret ignitions…
She touches the helplessness of the innocent childhood being strolled by the ghostly parenthood. She hears the cries of motherhood pleading under the enchanted tree of fake civilization . She tastes the staleness of chocolate and vanilla in the mouths of solitary youth. She feels the emptiness inside the hollow bones of the abandoned elderly…

She sees the rule of technical and mechanical intelligence, quarreling with the divine wisdom…..She witnesses the murder of simple human ties…with the meaningless worldplay…and the charm of simplicity bewitched by the glamour of fake models and ideals..with all the originality masked... or...tatooed ....

She watches the mortality of struggle , recycled between the invisible hills of ….Need and Greed ….located
in the dark cities of empty rituals. She feels the pain of the strive of the Needy ...like newborn left alone in the desolation of despair… in hope of a miracles…. that opens the bossom of earth… with the everflowing spring of holy zum zum…


So...... she sees the other side of the 'Sickle'…..The WORLD…with countless , sharp teeth…as her mother whispered once into her keen and listening ears……

Everything makes her weary self more miserable…!

She sits alone …watching the dimming rays of setting Sun…..in West…She longs...and prays... for going ....BACK....... HOME….

.....in hope to see the Sun Rising …again….(before her disintegration...)

for her dream was ......to search ….for…PEACE ….only....!

SW




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