Crossing the Polduwa Bridge, so gently in heart
Through the fair, fair
I walked
I didn’t feel like pausing my walk
i proceeded
Nothing was mute
The town was so moving ahead
people , some, moving back to their nests of life, after duties
pedestrian passage looked widen
I walked further, further and further
through people
towards relaxation
towards uniformity
towards clarification
away from dryness of life
i proceeded
the benches seeking for company
seemed, trying to analyze eras
Guards uniformed, were conscious
Advising often,
The parents who have taken their eyes off from their
children,
Just for a while
Through People i proceed
seeking for a station of moment
i proceed seeking for a place of no cruelty
Here I am
Before a train .............
How is it possible?
No railway was to be seen
It is a train of past
It is a train of memories
My thoughts shattered in to pieces
Travelled a bit back and forth,
From Kandy to Peraliya,
Stopped there for a while,
returned to the station of 'present'
i proceed
thoughts are relocated
The Train of Life is still on its way to the station of
future,
carrying me and my hopes
Children are playing,
Adults are describing,
Lovers are rehearsaling
life
Pausing for bondages,
clicking the cameras
360 degrees
Full of life
Full of lives
Sun is departing from the sky of west,
From the wide bluish sky
The River before me
Flowing rhythmically
Musically
yet in solidarity
I was moistured
Birds, using their wings in its fullest lengths
briefing each other, so closely
Wandering all over the solid sky
Looked tireless
The painted clouds moving slowly
looked stationed
Buddhist monks , a few,
A line of them just reached the wooden area
I noticed
Meditated for a while ( i thought)
About truth of life?
About kanthaka the navigator of Sansara?
About River Neranjana?
I changed ‘the direction of thinking’
The Monks, They are proceeding
These no lies
No fabrications
Eye witnessed
A father, so dearly
Teaching his daughter , an Angle for sure
What was she asking?
Too far to know, too far to hear
Returning Buddhist Monks
To the place of previous
Did I hear a ‘shooo’ sound, from someone behind a robe?
No! it is the wind
An innovator, a little one says
“Baby bird”
“a Baby bird”
“a Baby bird”
“I am the one who found him”
Little fight over an ownership of an innovation
He is a humming bird
Clarified, the young innovator
felt developed
sighs
life is a game
i should have told them
the gent, gently touched her forehead
i returned home, seeking for sisterhood ..............
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