Yesterday while cleaning my home, I opened a carton of books I had not opened for a very long time. I found a diary in which I used to write when I had not bought my laptop.
Something in me found meaning all over again yesterday.
I also found a poem titled – The Home of a Nomad dated 18 Nov 2003, almost 4 years before I started this blog. While creating this blog, I am not sure if I remembered this poem, but the thought that my dreams, my love, my heart was my true home and not the places I lived in was the only thing I remembered. The heart experienced life around it as it happened… it lived from moment to still new moments… hence it became ‘the nomad’.
Here is the poem that I wrote when I used to write using pens… and on everything from tissue papers in restaurants to the corners of newspapers, the time when I used to read everything in sight – from books to billboards and hoardings above shops!
The Home of a Nomad…
A pearl of joy hiding behind the curtain,
A petal of warmth lighting the crumpled bed,
A shadow of laughter sneaking from the window,
A wave of silence lying lazy on the floor,
A symphony of clouds breathing rhythm in the air,
A sparkle of dreams hanging loose out of mirror,
And a home flowing with the heart of a nomad.