Aps- The Muddled Utopian

The hills always called her to wander, The brown, the green, the yellow always tempted her to get lost, The hues like mosaic pretended to be a mirror of her insides, Rays of light reflecting from the scattered stones made her eyes sparkle with happiness... In the hidden trails, she sought the clues of unexplored horizons, The little crawlers and shrubs gave her company, And the dried leaves rolling with the wind in the woods became the travel music she loved... The rough grass blades  sometimes  gave her cuts, and little droplets of blood oozed out like dewdrops on fallen leaves, She revisited those scars when she missed the hills... The hills had the language of silence and conversed with her in their own secret language, the rough edges, the uneven paths, the uncertainty, the thrill, Her heart thumped a decibel higher, the hairs on the back of her neck sang a little louder, the hills were her calling and they always called her to wander......

When you set your feet on unknown roads, when you believe in mirages, You discover some footprints hidden under the dried leaves and wonder! Who would have wandered here before you? What did they talk about? What deeds they do? It all lingers on in the air, it's for you to smell it's for you to encode and for you to decode! Those mountains will make you realize what a tiny spec you are in the playground of the universe... Those clouds will play hide and seek with you along with the sunrays... The twigs and trees will become your mates in crime  And those shores lines will help you paint your own map... Travel is not when you travel to different places or countries, travel is when you discover something new in the littlest of things and when you explore the new in the old... It may be stepping foot in a new country, or it may be just turning a stone upside down, as long as you unfold a new hue of nature, have a beautiful conversation ...

Today the air smelled like mom’s rotis, When I walked towards the cafeteria… My heart just jumped out of its rib cage And flew home… Mom was running around the house, Her anklets were ringing the sweetest melodies, Dad was telling endless stories, And my monkey brother was playing his pranks… I am glad heart is a wild creature with wings, Who knows no bondage Who is still a kid that loves to play in puddles… I never thought when I was leaving home, I was leaving it forever… But like they say, home is where your heart is And my heart is tied to that little veranda, Where the grass is always green, rain falls like pixie dust there is always warm words, hugs and food when you come home And everything is taken care of… We all wandered as adventurers And we have achieved what we always dreamed off And we are working towards what we want to achieve But what keeps that fire alive is that feeling called “HOME”, I am carrying my “HOME” in m...