Letters from this part of the sky
The seven-horse chariot’s not slowing down
Rescue comes with the cloud-capped stars
Above the foam, when the chariot’s gone!
The beasts running haywire
Lost in worldly affairs, duped and confused
Seeking comfort & escape from wounds self-inflicted!
The smoke’s still in the air
And I’m taking it in and it’s yet not in
Unable to breath, beneath the chariot, amongst the beasts!
The foam rises and recedes
The sands, touched by million, yet untouched
By the feet that walk beside me under the stars!
Heard the island’s painted blue
With the smoke in the air and the receding foam I saw
Isn’t it the same sky above?
There’s no rhythm in words above
But I’m sure there’s some rhythm somewhere
In the language of the island!
O my elusive islander,
Send those alphabets, send that sky above
Send those postcards to me!
