Where the mist rolls in like milk flowing over the river. The riverbanks merge into the mist. The water and the mist blur into a hazy grey, that reminds one of lazy mornings. The clouds caress you like a forlorn lover. That prompts Poetry to course through the veins.
The greenery offers a refuge from civilization. Sounds of the city are drowned in the silence of the valley. The waters sparkle and create waves that lure you into their depths. The insects buzz your favourite song. The birds sing a different tune as though they know. That you seek peace and serenity.
The silence holds its hands over your ears; the wind runs its loving fingers through your hair, the earth gently holds your head, and rests it on its shoulder. The smells of fresh rains and a land caressed by gossamer webs of busy spiders, and of raindrops that form little oceans of peace on these spindly strands. That have the strength to bear your soul’s weight.
The mist and rain play with each other, while the wind tantalisingly romances the earth. A spider hangs precariously from its home, birds tease their mates from their heavenly perches. The fires that burn are quenched in the monsoon madness. The love and freedom that the elements create let you appreciate. That the elements of love conspire to restore your sanity.
NOTES: Staring at death's eyes and being inspired by life are two faces of the same coin.
What helps us turn into better people is this understanding.
This prose poem is free-flowing, has no apparent structure, but has great meaning, although hidden.
I do not apologize for the words, cliched as they seem. These attempt to convey the state of mind attained in Mulshi--the land of plenty, where the elements conspire to restore your sanity.
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