Of Kites And Life..

Of kites and life...

A tradition timeless,

The humble multi-colored kites,

Adorn the skyline of many Indian cities,

Made of jute and paper, or plastic,

According to the whims of the child,

The maker obliges with a knowing smile,

For he too has known the bliss.

Then the art, of a person holding it,

While the other get ready with the spool,

To let go, at the right whiff of wind,

And make it soar, by loosening,

Or tightening the threads,

Till it flies with pride,

Amongst the blue sky,

A sheer bliss that emanates an uplifting emotion.

But someday, the thread gets cut,

Kite just sails away, aimlessly drifting,

The cord of attachment is wound back, in the spool,

Letting go, a release, tears clouds

The eyes,

But when the child became a man,

He cared not, for to love life,

One has to let go, a redemption in cutting the threads.

Forgotten has he the mirror image,

Reflects not the child but the wrinkles,

Soar shall he, against the wind,

A messiah, a prophet unto his days.

An epiphany flashes upon his inner being,

Only when limbs turn to ash, shall they truly fly,

Only when eyes are closed, then one truly sees,

And only when there is silence,

Does one truly hear,

And soars into the great beyond.