The days are running gradually in this corrective province, and I set aside my opportunity to do anything I like doing when I feel it. Meanwhile, in the middle of my unconstrained and lethargic activities, I tune in to the huge number of winged creatures singing, the delicate ocean raising not far away, the squirrel's squeaky mood, and I appreciate seeing all the greenery that encompasses me: palm trees, banana trees, the incredible mangoes, the bougainvillea, and the blossoming hibiscus, in addition to the gigantic banyan that covers and shields my home and soul from the burning sun. They soak my neighborhood with oxygen and enjoyment.
The musicality of life is as moderate as my breath, both amid the day and around evening time, when the Ruler of the Night, who presently dozes, opens its roses, immersing the air with the inebriating fragrance of jasmine. I witness the sun ascending a long ways past the tall trees fencing my property, the sky lighting up, and the crows moving toward my gallery planning to get a couple of chomps of my morning meal. Each morning the equivalent; they gaze at me croaking, instigating, and asking. Not today, not presently, I've just eaten everything, and the disintegrates have a place with the ants now.
After quite a while, I compose again in pen on the note pad, in the same way as other years back. The speed and the unpleasant sound of the ink that fixes on the paper are synchronous with the rate of my idea, my state of mind existing apart from everything else and the lavish nature that encompasses me. I inhale profoundly and admire the sky, and down to the earth, and in the center to the trees that join the measurements. Sounds, early morning smells, 200-degree vision, the essence of breakfast in my mouth, and the outside air on my skin soak my faculties and complete the present.
Indeed, even the mind needs its part and thinks about whether this is a punitive state or a prize occasion I won or earned somehow or another that I additionally don't know or recall. It's dependent upon me to choose. In the mean time, a cow roars outside of anyone's ability to see, and my ears are in heavenly joy. On the off chance that I realized who to ask, I could decide on a lifelong incarceration and settle-down here, in a dead zone, where the progressing time is watching me watching and resting in the arms of a perpetual number of setting and rising suns.
With all my affection,
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire