Travelling

Words verily flunk to epitomize the

refulgent glen of Kashmir;

by and by, politically debauched

Having unrelenting narration in each

place; however, some hills still to be

sensational and groovy,


For just having the finesse of

clambering the hill,

I went to have the full perspicacity of it,

sauntering with ample avidity and

vehemence, an uncia of incalescence by

the sun, and a faint draft approaching

to smooch my cheeks of the phizog,


Essence unveiling all the dewiness;

I could behold every bough waggling

with the waft leaving its repercussion

thoroughly on my encephalon to have

scrumptious greenness,


The grace of fresh air served me for

long;

and unequivocally, I perpetually

mumble,

''O what a valley is this when every dinky thing is esthetic"


Mutilated hearts and ravaged visions

live up one more time, every dismal

thing will soar again; I listened to the

waves fanning through the canopy of

trees like a piece of sweet music

subduing the ears,


I kept striding alone, but couldn't reach

the apex of the hill,

Anyhow, I felt the fibs are arcane inside,

all vociferations of the valley are

interred deep inside,


The tales are recorded over there,

subaqueous tales can shred your heart

 by listening to them,

they are woebegone, lugubrious.


As I was hurrying ahead, It bit by bit

kept unfurling the yore of days,

Uncovering the grandeur and prestige

of the vale,

Deciphering the grim tale of pristine

youth,

spelling out the worn discolorations,

still existing on our skin ;

Discovering the sanguinary chronology

of an unresolved land,


Here the exploration was just to have

the aroma of the essence, however,

 it reflected an inmost narrative of the valley,


Yet, with all my ardor and passion,

I would like to go there again.
©Adi Adnan