somewhere near the spoken
and unspoken
in a time stitched into
the mesh of camaraderie
beings are too easy to vanish
in an oblivion created by
business of a galloping heart
and lure of wealth

and though winds are fast
with waters still
she feels the tug of roots
pulling her back to memories
and vivid textures of paint
once audaciously smeared
on sheets of paper
now form a collage
of muddy remembrance

but with a blow of passions under her wings
and hearkening to voices of accomplishment
her being must go on to a different place
to transform
but not vanish into a galaxy of stars all alike
but be the sun of a million souls
yet remain the glisten of morning dew
yet remain the chirp of blossoms
yet remain a crochet of smiles

though she does not wait or beg
for world to join her
or apologize for giving into her desires
it is with this start
the floating dream of success awaits
in celebration of which
under twinkling heavens
bidding farewell to an October night
she slips into the trance of kathakali
and every beat of her feet
counts down
to the advent of orange morning light
of her own small sun