The wind has no matter except sand.
I hear the wind howl.
I see the wind dig its hands
In the sand,
Ready to prepare a storm.
The wind has no matter except sand.

Though the image of springtime is already
Committed to this hour,
Thoughts of colours are fast vanishing
From song-filled flowers.
The tempest draws me nearer and nearer to darkness.
The wind has no matter except sand.

The sheer glass windows that connect me,
Forever, to the great outdoors,
Are a scene of grey haze, now.
Against the thinning sunlight,
The view of nothingness in many voices says,
‘The wind has no matter except sand’.

There is no other way besides seeing
The wind carrying sand sand sand.
By watching its fever, somehow, I get
A bird’s-eye-view of my own insight.
All I am left with is this carefree song:
The wind has no matter except sand!

10th March 2009

Geeta Chhabra