Poetry
Rana Nayar
A boy who turned his back on the world‌ I’m like a boy Who with back on the world Sits ponderously, Facing the ocean His eyes lost in the mist of mountains His gaze moving from earth to heaven Skies lowering themselves to his size Spreading like a canopy over his shrinking world The ocean waters flowing silently No turbulence anywhere in sight No agitation of the mind No restlessness of the heart No flutter of the soul, either Time is perhaps grinding to a halt Waters are melting into the mountains From whence they come Who knows, whence they go. On looking up He finds it all turn into a blur, The waters The mist The mountains And his gaze. Perched on the assurance of a hard stone He ponders on and on, And moves from one to the other Returning to himself Or his stony structure Framing his existence, Echoing a name That may ultimately drown in the mist Or float on the cloud-borne skies Or leave foot-tracks in an unknown, dark forest That runs through the mountains Somewhere far out and deep
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