By Fiza Pathan
Listen to your heart when the world around you
seems to be clouding the sun shining forth from your soul.
The wind speaks to those who are mute
it sings to those who are blind.
The atmosphere is serene and gentle
just like the swan that swims in the pond of innocence.
The breeze is melancholic when addressed with a sigh.
Talk to the breeze which scatters dead leaves along your path
and smile when you feel the gentle touch of the wind upon your cheeks.
Nature beckons us to dance with her in the gusty wind
Never was a woman so beautiful as Mother Nature in her nakedness.
Then does the pipe player echo his tune among the solitary woods
as he is perched upon the branch of an old banyan tree.
The tree has seen the rise and fall of the wind for three hundred years
the scene is haunting and delicious to the senses.
The Baal worshippers praise their demon god
by sacrificing a goat with its entrails
lying scattered around the statues feet.
The smell of blood purges the air of pestilence
and reawakens the warriors of old
who lie asleep in the sacred grounds.
Wind so mighty and aloof
Wind so wondrous and merciful
Wind so loving and compassionate.
Let us dance in the wind
while the shadow of darkness
is covering the earth in a black tent.
Be patient with the meek
for they are the messengers
of the different colours of the zephyr.
A gale blows where our hearts meet over the seas.
Let us with a patient heart echo the sound of the pipe player
as he rejoices in the colours of the wind.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/56066