musings

At dusk

Pigeons fluttering their wings,
taking turns to fly, and sit
on a row of boats lining the shore.

The grey colored boats appearing to be the homesteads of these frequent visitors.

And on the wall, sits a blue bird-small in size but magnificent in its beauty.
It sits like a priest, content, that it has done its prayers for the day; now sits to meditate and acquire its energy from the waters of the lake.

The lake, as always, a vast kingdom, and the waters move only a little as the evening sun sets in.

The sun seems like a flickering flame in the dusk of the day, still has powers to engulf the darkness that surrounds it; and its halo brightens the particulates in the air, such that they float like living beings in the atmosphere.

I can see the blurred line between the living and the non-living- there are particulates in the air, and there are miniscule creatures too.

The birds flying far into the horizon are merely points in the sky.

And the priest sits and looks after them.

The infiniteness of the sky is amazing, as I see the evening sun setting in.

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