The setting sun

Glimmers in afternoons where I stand,

looking beyond the bars of my balcony,

waiting for the sun to come down lower over the sky

so that my eyes can meet its eyes.

I dream in silence as I await its descent from its harsher heights.

I dream of victories of men over the millions of years.

I dream of conquests of countries and of lives.

I dream of the love lost and found, of youth and the old age.

My dreams travell over strange territories guarded by the Jacks in armours.

Some territories seem wild while others look civilised.

Savages and men flit close by me in my dream.

I dream of land haunted by the nightingales and the stars,

by the rose and its thorn.

It is of land sprawling over the seas,yawning around the globe.

It is of those little fish which breath out bubbles,

while talking to the water and the corals.

I dream of that peepal tree

that looks like its hoarded by fluttering butterflies

when it tries to wave its leaves to the setting sun.

I turn to the sun;the setting sun

that I was waiting for to step down before my eyes.

I looked at the sun,orange and yellow, smiling.

It looked like vermilion on a bride's forehead, burning.

I looked at the peepal tree as it watched the sun cheerily.

It struck me then; what a bond it was that I was witnessing;

the bond of the sun and the tree.