In the long trail I get sweet smell of the flowers,
I wonder if I have strayed by default into a paradise
to which indeed I belong and that in front of me now lies;
droplets of mist the breeze on my face sprays
and a faraway voice in my ear says,
"walk on, stop not, the fog soon shall lift"
for a clear view of the vastness I shall have soon
to realise I am the flower and no one,
I am the blueness of the sea in ripples
and me and only me in different forms and no other.
