Juicy leaves picked, washed and dried...
Tossed with local dried fish paste in hot oil...
sizzling in the pan on a humid afternoon...
sounded familiar?
Nah... I am not talking about the poem...
I am talking about my life of contentment...
which left not but a few days...
Letting the sentiments cave in...
the blissful bluish light...
the warm breeze...
it is not a bone chilling cold here ever...
it is not as cold as the faces on the road...
not as hard as the pebbles beaten by the roaring waves...
there is just simplicity...
in the revelation of true nature...
just the contentment of being with it...
not wanting to leave...
the cocoon of comfort...
the smell of home...
full of bee-filled grace, and butterfly dances...
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