The Pulse of a Dreamer

Do you know how to dream amidst the wilds?

Nature once taught me to embrace its beauty, I do not know whether I was awake or alive.

The breathtaking window to its soul – only I can see. That vision that takes hold of all creativity,

I stand as a spectator, crowned by its glory.

There were times when my heartbeats were lost, in that great slumberous place, where peace reigned in its foothold. I walked within the walls of a paradise, built across rivers with rushes of waters that ran across veins of forests’ growth.

There, I stood in awe as a spectator.

There were the creatures that hid, some from the sun and some from the heat, some awake and some asleep, so the forests knows of every feet that walked through its sublime trails.

Only mine, my feet were unknown to that great forest.

I sat on the rocks that cocooned the waters of the forest.

Maybe the rocks wet from the tides of the water that splashed above its borders, knew that a stranger was among its throes.

I watched, a keen spectator.

I heard the winds rustling past, through leaves that embraced each branch, each with a questioning song, Are you the stranger, whose pulse races with the dreamers, the one who dreams among the wilds?


2 Comments on “The Pulse of a Dreamer

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