beach ball...

the vast beach calm
and the long line of trees...the palms...
looked like the biggest ground on earth
swept by the strong wind from North...
and as we started to play
the ball by hurrying feet...prints we laid
on wet white sand soft and so full of grained joy
we became ourselves mere toys
at the hands of His vast open unpolluted variety
we had a beach football party...

but who's in midfield?who's centreback?
where's the goal post-
the fisherman's shack?
the central defender...the middle mark...
all became non existent...all positions were blurred...
for the vast...the open...the freed...
need no such markings to pay any heed...
only the ball rolled and rolled...
and we ran and ran...
on the beach...the soft benign sand...
putting everything at bay...
the civil choas... the horns...the crackers...
we ran and kicked the ball through the air...
got blisters on bare feet...
white foamy patterns dried neat
on our legs...by phosphorus got lighted straight
we ran hard...in the open sans barbed wires of time...or a closing gate...

those trees waved and sang
the only audience joining our band
as if they booed and cheered our game...
as if they implored us to carry on the same
sense of mirth...and uncaged hope...
the wind from the North brought twigs and feathers down a faraway slope...
the ball and the beach made us discover
life is unbound for any nature lover...
All we need is a pair of feet
and a ball to kick till we meet
the horizon...the waves and the wind
life...is not to be tinned
into some tiny cannister...
with a pin hole on the top...
life...is a beach ball party till the churchbell chooses to stop...