Orange lanterns bleed into
these quiet streets, and into
the exposed face of my mind.
A sanctuary indeed,
for a lone foreigner
immersed in a chaotic land.
The sounds of dogs barking, with their
politics in the back alleys
and of people honking with their
politics in the busy streets.
Such is the quagmire of development,
And yet, I can’t help but think
as I stroll down this corridor
red desert sand staining my shorts,
fresh jungle tea in my hand.
I’m surrounded by mango trees
and a few bright people
Shaping the world by day
then smiling humbly in the night.
sprawling metropolis to ancient city,
mountain valley to steamy plain,
all are known only
in the echoing stillness
felt beneath the noise,
and amongst the souls who reside there.
So much is evident,
on the far side of the world.