Looking outside the window she said, ” you will like this.”
Yes, it was eloping, the valley came like wild…wild horses.
But looking at the cloud I felt completely alone,
I felt I didn’t need people to give me my time as recourses.
She knew, I knew…the walls of this small room,
her shoes, her hairs, my cigarettes, her cigarettes…
she knew there was a possiblity of never returning to sanity after this touch of wet mountain.
Enough of these directions of crowd,
the peaceful crowd…
I wanted the silence more than I wanted anybody…
She whispered that rain was coming…
truly it came,
truly it again made a child out of misery,
again a poet died when it was most important to write the molten metals.
When the night came…and the wind stopped,
i felt going back to places where I have slept with the immortality of roads.

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Joshua B. Oakley.

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