Two Resorts Poem by Mystic Qalandar

From the edge
of the balcony,
the view beyond
was quite literally
something else—
entirely.
It opened
over the hills
in the East,
and, on a clear day,
the eye could take in
free birds migrating
in great swarms,
crossing
vast, boundless skies
toward some warmer resort
far beyond.

Yet, in truth,
there were only
two resorts—
the outer resort
of hills and skies,
and the inner resort
of silence and being.
One invites
the wandering eye.
The other
calls the wanderer home.

And perhaps
the farthest journey
is not toward
another place at all,
but inward—
to the resort
that has always been
within.

—MyKoul