West winds are blowing down my resistance
In my southern sojourn...
I feel chilled I kind of like this change of seasons..riding an auto home...
My scarf flies loose...I make a face and a knot and dream about entanglements in clouds....
A syrupy sunshine in my mind...when I recollect honey of your sweet mind.
I have lost directional clues..
I'm going north of nowhere now...
And any moment with a prayer on my lips for deliverance
I will sink down somehow..
I almost get it...
why men need to prostrate themselves
on public streets and pray...declaring devotion five times a day
Direction is nomenclature of existence
A compelling allegiance binds me
I feel like I should pray.
Singing glory
Is my act of faith
Out of the depth of misery.
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(c) Amrita Valan 2014
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