A Windy Tale

He comes and goes
No one knows,
Some say he comes from north
where the monks are chanting their prayers,
In top of the snow capped hills.
Some say he comes from south
where he swims in the oceans of pride,
Of its unknown bounds.

He brings with him the soothing bliss
after the scorching heat,
Raining the blessings of heaven on our wretched souls,
Reflecting the seven colours of love on our shoulders.
Urging us to carry on the dreams of the
congenial and gregarious souls,
Envisages that the world of pleibian
will be no more.

He enlightens us with music that comes along
from the fairyland of gnomes.
And he articulates me with the vision of the mysterious lady
Whom I have never seen,
Inveigling sleepless nights to come forth.

And when I think of his origin,
I feel he is neither from north nor from south,
He was always here, everywhere, and forever will be there,
Surviving as God's grace,
As a boon to our mankind.