The Red kite
Bubbling with a childish enthusiasm in the air.
Is letting the innocent, the small black shadows
Freely chase their dreams.
Running, jumping joyfully with the kite
The heights are not that tall to reach,
For all playful timelines of exuberance.
The childish souls wandering
On finite grounds,
Must be oblivious of what’s going around.
Engrossed in an unpracticed act of play,
The rhythm of an unfettered life finds sync in their buoyant moves.
Who else will understand their joy?
Than the mortal whit flowing with the changing winds.
Unmindful of, what is the end?
Pygmy grasses jubilantly
Waving with the winds of nothingness,
Too sway with the spirit around.
The barren land is trying hard to
Arrest the candid strides of the puerile.
Even the blazing sun, glint fully spreads
In the facade of open spaces.
It wants to get mellow down
and melt with the nomadic clouds.
To verb liberate, letting go its furious glory.
The Red kite
Is strung all through to the threaded bonds with the tiny hands
And it intends to remain in this state forever.
It’s a moment of bliss to watch,
The free world freezing
In an archaic frame of time.
A sense of completion arises when I see,
These unfinished, the uninterrupted
“Unchained stills of an ordinary life.”