Friday, November 12, 2010

Nomads and their Caravans

Halt the advancing dreamlets
They only show the earthly
Hold the flapping winglets
They only tempt freedom
Hold the flooding starlets
They only drown souls
Halt the ticking timelets
The past is already brimming

Halt that story teller
That narrates my legend
Declining to be the heroin
I decide to join the caravans
Of nomads of this tribe of woman

Tonight as I decide to marry
I prepare my trousseau
These dreams; these wings
These stars; these ticking times

See my groom on the horizon
He who nonchalantly walks towards me
I have not seen him ever before
But I do know his gait,
I do know his hair ruffled by the fingers of wind
I do know his scent
Like drifting from fresh bamboo grooves
I do know he is the one who should be coming
Long lost; long foretold to be found
The long time ticks away
Sand’s last grain slips through my fist
Right here; right now
I am a bride all over again

1 comment:

  1. another poem leading me to the world you created.

    ...and please, about the photo and its message in this poem