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I sit there...

Feeling the fresh brown dust on my feet,
listening to the screeches of the tawny owl,
and the rustling noise from the lonely bats' wings,

seeing the yellow leaves succeeding one another,
looking at the blue, blue sky with rare snowy clouds,
and diamond like stars twinkling in the moonless sky.
breezy winds smashing onto my face, and rustling my greasy black hair.

The smell of moist mud and the green crickets,
though my nostrils, filling into my lungs,
my breath long and heavy, I take into me,
also with the fragrance of the evening flowers.

 sensing the falling waters nearby,
sensing the freshness of the fall through my skin,
listening, observing around me the serenity of the bounty,
the abundance of whom they call the almighty,
feeling, drenching and seeing the denseness around,
sighting the verity within resembling the outside.

I sit there in my dreams, unassuming,
I sit there for a long time without my intervening thoughts,
I sit there blank as a white sheet,
I sit there still, my face undewed with snow.
I sit there in wonder of the beauty,
I sit there in the silent, dark night.

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