In the hills
The remote places
Small communities
Mostly self sufficient
Where the ubiquitous cell phone
Has no power
Connected to the world
By a narrow road
It’s these places
Where we are most
Who we are
It’s these places
Where we are most
Who we are
But it will be watched
On small screens
Live
Recorded
Streamed
And shared
A million times over
Perhaps, that is a better thing
Where there are no maps
I keep faith
I’ll find my way
Where there are no roads
I keep faith
I can forge my own
From the daughter
Roiling and playful
Down the narrow valleys
To the gentle, fertile
Fulsome matriarch
Mother of the plains
No matter
The quality
Of the scene
Or moment
Daytime dreams
To be fulfilled
Until sunset sky’s
Reminder
Possibility Illumines
Nighttime dreams
Which carry me
Except
Perhaps
Sunrise
I arrive in Rishikesh
Where the Ganga
Gently exits
The Himalaya
Heave a sigh
Breathe deeply
And collect myself
On the riverbank
More this:
The journey here
Intends to scale
The mountains of
My inner life
In these foothills, at Rishikesh