Swing

I am on top of
a multistory building of the past.
Around me
is a vast space
and on top of the space
is a sky.
I gaze at the sky
of mesmerizing aura.
I am lured to reach
that height,
be face to face with
the budding face of the moon,
walk hand in hand
with the stars
and swim in the
cool sea of the blue.
I put on the wing of
myriad hued imagination
with glossy feathers of
ambition.
With all my might
I lift my feet off
the building,
and again I am on top
of the same building.
But I find in an
increased height.
I take rest.
Feel content counting
the stories with suites of rooms
and the height I have risen to.
I feel the cool breeze
on the skin of my face.
I doze,
I dream,
and I wake up.
I ride on the desire to fly.
Flop down.
And thus I open
the door of a rhythm.
Set a tune
of a lilting music.
I live between
my attempts to swing up
into the sky
and back to the top
of the same building.

copyright Mukul Dahal 2006



Poetry by Mukul Dahal
Read 526 times
Written on 2006-11-04 at 09:18

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Somebody (i dont' remember who, unfortunately) told once that one thing that is peculiar for the human being is that he has his feel steadily anchored to the ground, while his head is constantly striving up to the skies...
2006-11-04