Turned Into Water And Fled Away - 7 Poem by Seshendra Sharma

I fled away into the forests of books escaping from the clutches of howling winds that came gathering wild shouts of raw humanity from towns and cities.
I lost my head in the leaves that they dropped in heaps and heaps all around me
Now even the flood that is flowing away wants to rob me of my shadow
O fields of peace
O green turfs of horizons
I would lie down to rest in the music of your tranquilising looks, ruminating the dawns of my inner worlds
Flowers are cups
Filled with colours of creative pulse
Men are walking candelabras throwing living lustre
of the span of human journey
all creation turns into a flower and opens its petal in the silvery waters of my consciousness. It exudes the most pre - historic smells
Branches enter my heart bringing a whole population of leaves inside.
Bunches and bunches of song hang, ripe like fruits and AI wallow myself in perfect bliss.
In creation nothing is still
All move and float like angelic forms; the children, the trees, the hills, the pastures, the cows, and the sheep, whole herds and flocks of them together enter the round holes of the flute and flow out as rare melodies of continuing time.
The eye is dismembering the lines and strokes of all known and unknown objects, trying to hold all dimensions at once.
And again in another pattern regrouping them, to create new forms and wake up a new world of wonderment. It is translating every visible thing into the secret code language of the mysterious sub - world;
It is transforming the inarticulate voices of all pulsating life into syllables and molecules and releasing them into wind.
A great dialogue was spreading among the vast population of the inner worlds that inhabit my consciousness.
The butterfly romping about in the void drawing zig zag coloured lines, has raised boundaries to the worlds of my wakefulness.