the moon travelled
from the moment of its birth
journeying over waterfalls
over the mountains of deosai plains
staying with me
i mourned as it grew
floating and rubbing its end against the watery edges
vapor clouds passing through my being
and i stood speechless-
why do we build cities of concrete
when there are clouds to
live with,
mountains to talk to,
lakes to lie on,
flowers to fold in-
simplicity crackles in
rickety tea kettles here
humility lays the dastarkhuan¹
apricots, dried cherries,
herbal teas-
aromas that soothe the
choked lungs
filled with city fumes

all journeying here
ends at the feet of mountains
one must obey laws
that have been forgotten;
nothing is yours and yet everything is-
fear that this will all be gone
once civilization attacks
the quietude here,
and the air will decay with choked gasoline
and stale
packed food wrapped in plastic
ready to murder the plains-

apricots drying along tracks and on rooftops
will wither
under concrete-
tired of fighting
human interference-

the cold desert, the majestic nanga parbat, the mighty river indus

shy away when i stare at them
i out of admiration
they from fear

14000 feet above sea level
my heart lies at the bottom
of satpara lake

trout look quaintly
at my surprised admiration
they know not of the charcoal apocalypse
ahead.

…
diya is from lahore. loves old trees, words and surreal nights~

¹ a square piece of cloth laid on the floor to sit and eat on