I write,
A little prayer,
For my dear friend
On a weekend
Miles away,
Sitting here
At the safe confines
Of my wooded home
I experience,
The soul and spirit of sand
Through the lens of my friend,
The beauty of the sun-baked sands,
Merging with the infinite sky above,
Blurring the horizons
Into one canvas
Though devoid of the greens,
And the rivers,
Sans the dark clouds,
And the rain,
That my home is blessed with,
There is beauty still
When compared to him,
I feel safe at home
The arid region evokes in me
Both admiration and trepidation
Of dreary deserts,
Of weary life
I see my friend,
Trod the lifeless desert,
With dreams in his chest,
Toiling hard in a foreign land,
For his loved ones
And I write in wonder,
Miles away
A thousand men
Must have tread that way
Long before he was born,
Absorbing the love from above,
And a thousand hearts
Will tread that way
Long after he is gone…
And I write in wonder
Miles away
What a paradox,
The so-called sterile land,
With its sparse vegetation,
Is in fact heavily- laden,
With oil and minerals,
In its bosom
And millions across the world,
Survive from its bounty
And as my friend travels the rugged path,
Exploring the treasures of nature,
In the setting sun and ascending moon,
Capturing the twilight colours,
Of a foreign land,
Eternally in his frames
All I pray,
From miles away,
Is for him to realize his dreams,
With a calm and peaceful mind,
And let the Master bless him,
With a song on his lips,
For a bright morrow,
With no pain or sorrow!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem