38. I FELT GOOD
I felt good while swimming in choppy waves of the tidal sea,
diving underwater to have subtle glimpses of the aquatic fish.
i felt good gnawing at the rudimentary apple protruding from the tall tree,
ripping apart succulent chunks of the fruit with boisterous fervor.
i felt good plucking dead grass from nimble soil of earth,
tickling my ear with a blend of humid mud and spongy tufts of grass.
i felt good when i drank pure extracts of violet grape vine,
slept like a demon relinquishing the agonies of routine life.
i felt good when i stared at the enchanting demeanour of the sky,
spent all night counting innumerable numbers of resplendent stars.
i felt good when marooned without aid on an desolate island,
leading life in solitary calm, catching small fish with thorny sticks of wild bush.
i felt good when i perceived my childhood in transparent fossils,
visualizing myself clinging tightly to the plump silhouette of my mother.
i felt good when clambering steep slopes of the mountain,
pilfering the loose soil with large treads of my rustic feet.
i felt good when sprinkled with bountiful amounts of lotus spray,
rolled on stone cold arenas of floor with my body clad in royal silk garment.
i felt good when whistling indigenous tunes sitting on my mud house roof,
coating barren walls of my dwelling with cakes of cowdung plaster.
i felt good working with scrupulous care; perspiring in the fuming Sun,
being thoroughly applauded for the onerous tasks i had accomplished.
i felt good in close proximity of her tender arms,
her Luke warm breath drifting down my nape,
the mystical spell of her love embracing me in a vice like grip forever.