Returning to the mountains of Nepal
There I hear a quiet prayer …
The air holds stories, and
The peaks remind me of something higher,
A kind of majestic, and mysterious power
Something beyond words
As devotion follows me ever since
Through its valleys and winds …
I see myself as a simple soul. I find joy in the little things, waking up to a humble breakfast, like a cup of tea, honey, a handmade roti (tortilla), vegetables with chilli and mustard seeds, and then spending unhurried time with loved ones, talking about the weather, some chores or sewing clothes, or something as small as jotting a note on a postcard. I’m content to sit with a few old coins, letting them clink together, or to play a tune on the harmonium, untrained, yet somehow it’s music to those dear to me …
That’s who I’m, a simple person at heart. Some don’t understand why I’m drawn to the mountains and valleys, places where life flows quietly, unhurried and unadorned. The people there live differently from those in the city; they don’t complicate life or chase after recognition, wealth, or fame. They are content just as they are, in a way that’s extraordinary without needing to say so. For me, smelling a flower feels like magic, extraordinary in its simplicity. To most, it may seem ordinary, but to me and those mountain souls, it’s everything …
One day, I dream of living in the mountains, waking each morning to their towering presence all around. The sun would rise over them, its rays meeting my face, bathing me in a warm glow of golden light. I’d be shining in that bright yellow, wouldn’t I? Tell me …
Can I also live there with your name permanently? As going back to the mountains would feel like an act of devotion, a fulfillment of a promise, leaving me with a heart softened and at peace …
(NB: I wasn’t sure about the title of this post. So I felt to take the first word that it’s started. I hope it’s fine)
🤷♀️
Roksana Tales 