Where there is water
there is greenness
where there is greenness
there must be elegant
shadows of butterflies
feel life
with your heart
and you'll find
beauty is all around
a wandering journey is hard work
but the distant landscape
the trees the flowers
the colors
it's so poetic
intoxicating
it's picturesque
happiness.

Distance is a weird phenomenon, so is time.
We were two continents apart, yet connected.
So far yet so close.
We are in the same city and yet I can't see you.
So close yet so far.
Maybe because tears often blur my vision.
I talk to you and you make everything sound so normal, like nothing ever changed.
We never stopped talking. But we never started as well. And now that you're going, I feel like you were long gone before you came back.
I think it's fair enough: we didn't meet when you left, we didn't meet when you came back.
I hope this settles the score.
Until next time,
All my love.

Our love is the flower
Which blooms on the unknown mountain.
Our love is beautiful.
Never picked and displayed in the imperior's palace,
Never put down to the soldier's grave.
Our love is swinging in the wind.
Our love is opening the petals to the sun.
Our love is always glad if it rains.
Our love never fade in the imperior's vase,
Our love never wither on the lonely grave.
Our love will give seeds
Like others,
Like others.
Our love is the flower,
Wild flower.

I am a woman.
I am smart.
I am kind.
I am compassionate.
And I am so many other beautiful things.

I am a person.

I am not an object for you to enjoy.
I am not something for you to whistle at.
I am not just ***** or *** or legs.
I am not your pretty scenery.

I am a person.

I can imagine,
trees, ponds, fish and oleanders
but I can't begin
to hold you tightly enough,
the anguish remains crafted.

I feel a simple joy
As I look upon the hills
The kind that uplifts my heart
Without the skiing thrills.

The trees look their best
All dressed in multi-coloured hues
And stretch for miles around
Against skies of brightest blues.

And as I watch the sun,
Rise from the other side;
I see life stirring out,
From where at night it hides.

The sky gets filled with colour:
To a warm tangerine-orange glow;
And my mind is filled with awe,
At this wondrously delightful show.

Some birds have started
Singing their happy whistling tunes;
And will continue with their songs,
Till its way past noon.

There are some that have started
Before the day broke into dawn,
And unite with the melodies
Of those who start later in the morn.

And these very merry sounds
So full of happy cheer
Makes the state of Kashmir,
Our very prized frontier.

The sounds are echoed far and wide
On this mountainous terrain
Over hills and through valleys
They reach below to the plains.

At night it gets all quiet,
Except for the babbling brook
And the occasional hoot of the owl
That startles me from my book.