A WALKABOUT

Sitting down, knees fold,
Eyes gazed on the open space,
What is she thinking?
Nothing.
What is she feeling?
So many things.

The Stillness, her song,
As the whole world drift along,

She looks up at the stars,
And see the butterflies dancing,
She contemplate on the grass,
And watch the colours glowing,

As the wind caress her face,
She listens, enthralled by the song of the birds,
Watch, how they glide and twirl with grace,
But still, she questions, what’s this that hurt?

Her gaze went far with the breeze,
To the massive structure of the pyramids,
And great monuments of archaic trees,
And saw the African lions as they feed,

Wild people, colourful beads and dress,
Reflects the colour shades of skin,
An array of dialects, a spectrum of race,
Imagined, she asks, what makes us akin?

Pace by pace, she walks to the canyon,
And felt the warm earth beneath her feet,
As the marvel the richness beyond horizon,
Till the sun turns to moon, only to realise it was a gift,

And still, what is this that felt so hurt?
And what is this that felt so empty?
What is this that felt so confused?
What is this that felt so lost?

What is this that she’s searching for?
What is this that she’s seeking for?
Something virtual or reality?
Or the world with its hidden humility?

Then she understood, to look instead to see,
Of that which bind the Dance to the Dancer,
As the wave, the Ocean no better than the sea,
Of the book-reveal wisdom, never to falter,

The world, the mirror of heaven,
Nature, temple of the maker,
As a teacher to the be savant,
Thus she knew, what could be greater?

To acquire comprehension, the Grace from God,
No boundaries, no conditions, no mandatory,
Of that answer beckons to be sought,
And alas, to be free…

Then I saw her smiled.