Читать книгу Little Meditations - Avinash Jalani - Страница 14

With passing roar,

falling lights,

crying clouds,

mud turning greener.

Faces melting,

bridges flooding,

pages turning,

moments going on with nothing to do.

In this passing storm,

a child searching for finger to hold,

the water kissing the toe,

a smile when no one to look at.

Spirit transforming,

heart silent,

riding on invisible waves,

with no proof when my eyes kiss your face.

You are my gravity,

the breeze in my space,

the autumn to my winter,

the awakening to my sleep.