The Aftermath .... to the three days

It was a roller-coaster ride.

With a soaring spirit and a strange lightness of mind and body the moments slipped by in unending waves. The slip-stream was everywhere. It was as if one was being carried on a gentle whirlwind that had a joyous direction of its very own.

The fabric of a moment fades and unravels if not shared. And those three days had been shared by more than a hundred and seventy. In the days that followed the memory of each moment became the moment itself. It either throbbed in the remembered pain or bubbled in its laughter.

And the words too flowed on.....

November 26th, '95

The aftermath....

to three days in November

The joy of writing

'Three days in November'.

And the aftermath:

The sudden prick of tears

And a fullness in the heart.

Then

A bubble of laughter

At the remembrances.

The 'Guest Session'

And distribution of copies of the poem.

Felicitations!

Suddenly drained and hollow,

Floating in a vacuum.

And then

The slow birth of a glow within

Becoming brighter every day,

And the urge to hug and love and share

This glow;

The urge to let all within gush out

In a stream pouring into everyone

To become a part of them.

The doubt

"Can - will they understand?"

A creeping up on the blind side

Of logic;

A desire to analyse...

And yet when I shared

The culmination of those three days in November

Each memory, purged of all pain,

Consciously unremembered,

Coalesced into its essence

And came flowing out in a joyous flow of words

Describing only the outcome.

The glow reached out enveloping them

And touched within, a portion

They retained.

And the glow was not diminished.

It pulsed and danced within

And was brighter.

* * * *

The river still flows on, but without tears.

Someday it will become a river

Of innocence,

Of vulnerability without fear,

Of love without reason,

Of not reliving old moments of spontaneity

But creating new ones;

Of slowly probing the unknown

Without fear or need

Only to feel, to touch

And to be more.

A river within which i

Will feel the texture of each color,

Caress it and let it become a part of me.

For then I will slowly

Merge with the sunsets

And be a part of the dappled sunlight

On the wooded hills.

And the river within will flow

Into the mountain streams.

Then

I will be one with the flowing stream

And become a part of timelessness.

Rushing

Without knowledge, without logic,

Spontaneous, gurgling through rising rocks

And plunging playfully over the pebbled riverbed.

And one day

Without learning

Will come to know

The essence of being......

(photograph courtesy : www.bigfoto.com)