In the breathless night
hear the sound of drums
the wilderness
embedding in every breeze
every motion that rustles
the life back into trees.
Once in the breathless night
moonless, serene
the whispers begin
where years become ageless
language flee to periphery
and no mountains get conquered
no land be spoke for
in the forest where time is measured
only by the rise of Sun and fall of moon
not manmade junk of measure
mere seasons fall
as they had always done.
In the breathless night
catch a moment
never touched by civility’s notions.


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