Ur
Man
Pe
Foot
Nomad
Neanderthal

Alone and aloof,
Far i will tred.
The sky is my roof,
The earth is my bed.

.
Silver charms on an anklet ******
as her foot stamps down once,
crossed dainty in front of the other,
and her hands start a slow ascent.
From hips up into the air
in the nonchalant action of the flame,
arcing a half circle about her waist
she turns to face the assembled crowd.

A tabla starts a sleepy beat
and the sitar player awakens,
or returns from a meditation,
readying himself for his introduction,
to blend a melody of the Moon
with the woven movements of dance.
The beat increases and four taps
signal a change in the rhythm.
The following note is punctuated
by the tinkling of the charms
and the first strum of the sitar,
sending music to the starry sky.

And her hips sway in gentle waves
as her hands mimic the lotus flower
in cups of dreams above her head,
and the anklets jangle a soothing sound.
The wrists twist and move graceful,
delightfully twinned with the neck of a swan,
and her body sways like a leaf in the wind
to the melody from ages past.

The tabla starts a frantic beat
as the sitar player lets fly,
his new unrestrained chords
dilute the night with ecstasy.
And she dances in her trance,
skin shining with the dew of reflected joy,
her lithe body telling the story
that began before the dawn of time.
A crescendo summons the dance to end
and silence fills the void,
but far into the deep dark night
silver charms on an anklet ******.

© Pagan Paul (01/09/17)

I* know of a Nomad people there.

They would even marry kids,
About 8 year olds I refer to here,
Lay them in the desert sand,
Kill them they would every night.

Alas, a new creed was started,
Bet they do for camel derbies,
Often they Halal their necks,
Up they drink camel blood,
Totally exploiting their women.

Them we fear the most,
How shameless they are,
End their hatred will never.

My indication is towards them,
Unintelligible who have become,
Slim are their famished girls,
Listening is the entrapped Shiva,
I know that He'll be finally free,
Many still repeat the enchantments,
So dumb they circumambulate anti-clockwise.

An effigy of Ravaņa is afire annually,
None of his descendants is brave,
Demean they the Hindus therefore.

Them the world fears on this day,
Harmony is harmed by them,
Escaping them is not possible,
I mean that they are everywhere,
Regal they think that they all are.

Originating in Hinduism,
Road to heaven they have lost,
I too got visions from heaven,
Go to the mausoleum & break it,
Ignore what the world says,
No followers of Maha Maada,
S**he was a demon princess originally.

Maybe I am just a nomad, a mere wanderer with no home, always walking, running-away from my reality, and the reality is that I am a nomad, a lone wolf that forms a part of many packs, but would rather wonder alone, onwards, to a path unknown, to a new pack, that I will soon leave to begin again.