Connected

In the morning sun -
the light and the shadow are tenderly playing
and I'm walking under the old maples,
the fragrance of the sea in my nostrils

My mind is immersed in the pastimes of the holy people
their struggle, their glory
and faith

Faith and curiosity

to find out


And I walk on in my summer dress,
warm breeze on my skin -
the touch of The Playful Flute Player.

Bad days good days
in this dream we call reality -
having this mysterious sweet sorrow
of being left behind -
have to move on

yamuna-tira-vana-cari

It doesn't matter
as long as I can still somehow cross the border

and hand my flower to the other side