He often spoke of a girl and a monk
And the river he carried her over
He beckons to dismiss my mind
How many times do we pass our silence
And brush away our illusions
Tonight there would be no dismissing
I never want to forget
Tonight I returned to the flat rock
on which I once sat.
I carried my self, my thoughts, my thumps
With bards and willows as my audience
Waiting for reconciliation
Waiting for the others ~ 


© malai carrara 2012

Photography copyright © Nausher Banaji
all rights retained by photographer.