Arriving Somwhere But Not Here

As I see a cloud of smoke , or were the clouds smoking …coz not only do I palpate a grappling clasp ….i find it hard to breathe as well.

Its like as if there were a magical fountain sending frail plumes of clouds against the cascade hanging from above .It was dowsing the evening sun; folding it into the lotus of its love or fantasy as you may name it or tickling the burlesque of the moon.

Im not sure what to call the hazy orange being atop a distant rugged hill.

Havent I closed my eyes in the last 100 hours ; where am I ?

Or were they closed the whole time ; where am I ?

As faint glimmers make me take another glance at the orange figure ; its no more there.Its been obscured by the brooding drifts of the clouds.Clutched? EMBRACED?

I think it has gone to sleep , comforted itself in the slowly descending blanket of the atmosphere;late evening chills of December in plateaus of India,abandoned as they stand.

But I see farm lands too and clusters of habitation suddenly.

Sheep wearing woolen jackets ; not of their own. Numb trees,sometimes near sometimes far,screaming in solitude. Then there are intermittent flashes of a hopeful light.

A hoot of a horn ,rumbling wheels , a tainting perturbation to the serenity.

But where are the birds ; or has the emptiness dumbed me to their chirp.

But why should my vision be clouded?

Was I dreaming the whole time ?

They said he was good,an angel.

They said he was great,extraordinary.

They said he was different,weird.

They said he was crumbling,mellowing.

But he was vunerable ; human.

Im Anurag ,and im coming home.

Its been a long outing ; my sinews whisper of the stories.

But who am I ? What is my home ?

ARRIVING SOMWHERE BUT NOT HERE

Did you see the red mist block your path?
Did the scissors cut a way to your heart?