The wind was getting stronger, And the prints were too ragged, The hope was fickle, so were odds, And hapless soul was too shagged, Deaf, blind and a monk naked, As pure at heart as diamantine, The sun was raging and sand agitated, Burning at heart searched for divine, The shadows were raging and alive, And prints were lost in storm of time, The wind was wild, with a mirage in sight, And digs too seemed like a hard climb, Hope was fading, the vision was blurred, He prayed to Lord, not to be turned, The Soul of the world he said he earned, He got robbed, brighter he burned, A hand entered his frame of vision, He looked up to the ray of light, The soul shattered, so did my dream, There I sat, cogitating all night! Credits; Lake Minnewaska Photo Gallery