That early dawn, on the hills of the Himalayas
I felt the gentle love,
of mother, the earth…
The tenderness of a bypassing breeze,
Caressing the sound asleep
Yet slumbering of a green crop.
The whisper of a morning dew
Crunching the thirst of a young stalk …
And the warm kiss of a rising sun
Promising the mystery of a day ahead
I hear the chirping birds
Recite the first poetry of love
I closed my eyes… Quietly
I prayed to the goddess of bloom
I opened my eyes
I gasped for air…
“Cyrus H. Mafi Copyright 2008”
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