My real home
Being a wanderer is not a joyride
It’s a pursuit of the soul
To discover a place it can call 'home'.
Yes I wander to unknown lands of my homeland
Unknown, yet never seem strange to me
Somehow I know their wind and they know my heart.
The silent spirit of the Mother Nature offers me-
The pleasure I have always been craving for.
Only she knows my real desires.
I am amazed to see how she copes up
With my lust to embrace her
And the yearning to get dissolved in her colors
Sprawling in the green glowing lap of hers
I wondered what this strange affair was
A hue of sunray dipped in wild flower scent rushed in
And she whispered to me –
‘You belong to no mother no love no cause,
You belong here, right here’.