It's a dream.
A dream, which had had put me into a soothing melancholy. If you promise me that you’re not going to decrypt this dream, I will tell you what it is and what it was.
In the Dreamland.
It was an early morning. Horses of Sun were on its way to Earth. By the river side he was sitting under a tree, thinking why he is there!
His ears caught something; there was a noise in the water. It sounded as if the river was telling ‘do not go’ to somebody. She arose from the water, came out wet, fresh, blooming. Air was filled with wombling fragrance of beauty and womanliness.
Ambiance changed. His external and internal ambiance changed. In the process of heating up the Earth, Sun heated up his thoughts and soul.
Few feet away from him, there stood a woman. She was in her violet saree, wet, leaving her hands to the sun light to dry and below her leg knees to the guy by the river-side to shy. Her beauty overflowed to its high, touching her thighs, blackish, silky, and not allowing the breeze to shake since the river played with it for a long time. Shore looked very bright as if Sun was lightened up by her beauty. She glowed in the fire of the Sun.
O the Skin! She looked as if she was made up of a blend of white Jasmine and softest Rose buds mixed with honey. Hey what was that! Did the thrones has fallen in the blend by mistake! But that was a beautiful pimple in the left of the right cheek.
O the lips! Is that a piece of an eternal fruit dipped into the grapewine for decade’s together or the broken wand of the enchantress of beauty. Nobody will believe those are tiny folding in her lips but are lyrics which expresses the love of Kahlil Gibran. Wow! What is that something hiding in the lines of the lips edge! A mole! Oh, is that is the full-stop of the lyrics!
He spoke to himself, “Who is she?” thought the man. “Daughter of an Emir, from the land of love?” he questioned the air again.
She walked a few steps, holding her saree tight, white palms of her legs kissing the sanitized sand of the river side.
O her Walk! Her hairs moved left to right and right to the left when she walked alike his mind wandering from her forehead to the tip of her leg and back to her forehead. Crawling of a baby longing to walk to her mother’s bosom, she walked slowly, mesmerizing every piece of the sand.
"The Sun is looking at her, the river kissed her, the sand touched her, and breeze caressed her"
“For the first time I need to believe the sun, the river, the breeze doesn’t have a soul, all those are non-living things” thought he.
He walked along her footsteps. The soul of the river dropped from her hair drop by drop sufficing the Earth. He called her, without name, in the name of love, in the heart of lust, in a passion of crush, in a longing of care. She turned to him. Looking at him, her heart beats went up. Fever of fear caught her; chillness of the breeze increased her fever. He raised his arms as if to allow her inside his bosom. She bent down, her cheeks turned reddish, oh; wine too was mixed with in the blend!
A drop of elixir flowed from her forehead touching her temple, it ran down her nose.
O! Her nose! Let me keep at least this alone secretly in my heart.
He went down in his knee, with his hand to catch the drop of elixir in his palm, which may put off all his burns of the soul, which will dilute all the acid he drank, which will cherish his life, and flourish his love.
The drop slipped from the tip of her nose tip, flew down and was about to reach his palm…
Somebody taped my shoulder “can you move and sit“. I realized, I was in train compartment traveling back to home from office. I woke up, moved a bit and the book I was holding in my hand slipped down.
I took the book from the floor, “The Beloved” by Kahlil Gibran.
Please do not decrypt my dream.