An intersting thought for those who elect to step out of the mundanities that mould and corset our lives:
I wandered aimlessly in the fields and saw many flowers in the most unseasonable bloom: Christ, Buddha, Mohammed, Moses, Mahvira; also, other perennials in the distance: Zarathushtra, Isis and Ra, and orchids, too: Khayam, Firdausi and Socrates, all set among a host of Poetisia. They beckoned to me as they swayed in the breeze outside the stuffiness of establishments from where I had emerged for a breath of fresh air; from the churches, mosques, temples and synagogues; the humming halls of Mammon, and industries, trades and commerce of man; the high courts, police posts and parliaments of politicians; all the perfidious priests and prefects of probity.
For a long moment, indeed, the ambrosial essence extruded from the grub and mire of the earth in an exudation of one intoxicating perfume, wafted in the air and enveloped me. There was music too, when the breeze gathered force in a concert of whims, as it cut through the grass and reeds; as it rippled on waters in the fields; as it rattled the timpani of stones and trees, and fell into a melodious mingling with the winds. I sensed the intoxicating rhythm of nature, and it took hold of me. I shed the layers of clothes that had fashioned me, and naked, began to sway and reel and whirl unstopping, dancing the dervish of the Sufi. Finally, with abandon I sang out in a voice I could hardly ascribe to myself, what I knew at once was an amalgam of all the hymns and anthems of the ages of God and Man, free of the continuum of time, to which only the mind was tethered.
Since then, I have turned not to whence I came, but like the Qalandhar, I have continued to wander aimlessly in the fields where these flowers have never ceased to grow, nor has nature’s music missed a beat, or note.
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