My heart goes out

To all the people

I haven’t met

Yet...

in the far away misty mountains

in a tiny hut, where a trail of white smoke

gently rises

& joins the clouds

sometimes like a giant genie

fog drifts in and engulfs all

the gigantic silence broken only by

rows of fluttering flags

where the bounty of nature is helpless

in feeding the child

but flowers continue to bloom in moss covered pots

below the battered windows

like true entities of all phenomenon

or the lunatic in the crossroad

of hectic traffic & frenzied car horns

of the exhausted homecoming

of tired travelers with tired faces

and hawk like eyes and snarling lips…

the serene lunatic, with disheveled hair

gently eating a dirty bread

with a far away look in his eyes

once in a while with a mischievous smile

scratching his hair, asking an impertinent question

“ Where have you been all this while..”?