Meeting Reshi,

Heard her murmur,
Two hundred metres
From above,
Heard her, sombre,
As if she was chanting a prayer,
Soft, yet grave enough
To make one stop,
And breathe in the cold air,
And feel the ascetic silence
Enveloping one,
Filled with smell of fragrant incense leaves,
And also of wild red and dark blue berries,

The path made by people gone long ago,
Was visibly enchanting
And a bit perilous too,
Steep,

But I heard her murmur,
Reshi,
The river,
Colored silver
And a bit silk thread like, as I her from distance could see,
She had been flowing there for ages not known to me,

So I started to follow
The path,
Towards her,
And once I reached
And saw her glistening,
And heard her feet sounding jingles on rocks,
I thought that was all I wanted,
And wished,
That was all I had to understand,

I sat down breathless,
I sat down filled with youthful haze,
I sat down silent,
While Reshi ran her length,
Through rocks and white sands.