I dream of death in the dust of your valleys
strung by the stillness that plagues this vastness
On higher heights you kiss my breath away
My skin tingles, my hands numb as you
whisper me awake. But your taste
warms and burns my cold cold heart.
Climbing up and down your curves,
exploring each crevices, searching for shadows of your unshaven surfaces
speeding in sanctimonious serenity
there is solace in this temptation
Sometimes smooth as snow slivers on ice
Sometimes rough like the grasp of ten men
And at the peak of your altitude, here I succumb.
Delving to a consummation of teal and turquoise
the colors of sunlit night.
falling for the flow of fabrics that fabricates
reality.
Blinded by your unforgiving lights, my eyes are open
to a life beyond ashes; I'm afraid
"I might be sentimental"
So Ladakh, as abruptly as the absence of this picturesque scene
I will leave you, as I do with all others
lest the mystique that mesmerizes this memory is
lost
