I want to sit in the lap of nature,
And hear the murmurs of its bosom,
Unravel the secrets of the here after,
The idle hours, they depart and they come.
I want to lie in dark crevices,
Within the sprawling under growth,
And embrace all creations devices,
The towering hills and pollen afloat.
I wish to feel the caress of the gone,
When I reach my hand out like a child,
And feel the wonder of that child new born,
When I have touched and I have descried.
I wish to place my palms on the moist mud,
And feel the echo of life and death,
That reverberates in my heart beat and blood,
Oh the sagas entwined in each breath.
I wish to inhale the aroma of rain,
And let it enrich my reveries,
And let the subtle strings of human pain,
Weave a sad song of the sighing breeze.
I wish to spark the breath of many a birth,
And know I am a verse, a migrant breath,
Out to quench the inertia of pain and mirth,
And diffuse into the yawning depth.
I wish to close my eyes and wake beyond,
And know no more of the shrill world,
Freed from the umbilical of the mortal bond,
Like a poetry un- writ and unheard.