The land merges with sky, yet distinct,
It’s in my sight, gray at times, at times vivid.
I yearn to reach the merging of destinies of sky and land,
It avoids my grasp, yet it beckons me.
Bright orange under the setting sun, blinding my eyes,
The breeze; my messenger to the infinite,
Subsides silently, as my eyes close to illusions,
Melancholy is in the air, wistfulness in me.
I adore the horizons from a distance,
The distance that can’t be traversed,
Sans conviction, I walk towards desire,
Reality in face, the horizon walk away even further….
©Copyright Darshil A Shastri
It’s in my sight, gray at times, at times vivid.
I yearn to reach the merging of destinies of sky and land,
It avoids my grasp, yet it beckons me.
Bright orange under the setting sun, blinding my eyes,
The breeze; my messenger to the infinite,
Subsides silently, as my eyes close to illusions,
Melancholy is in the air, wistfulness in me.
I adore the horizons from a distance,
The distance that can’t be traversed,
Sans conviction, I walk towards desire,
Reality in face, the horizon walk away even further….
©Copyright Darshil A Shastri
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