That two colours could wreck such havoc on my senses I had not imagined. Mountains of rock and soil - daunting and stark. Stones jutting out like unpolished jewels frightfully large and unsheathed. The sky a blameless blue - so piercing it wills you to lower your eyes. Like how you find it unnerving to stare into a pair of absolutely honest eyes.
The night is so black
without its moon
it grimaces at me
so surly so silent
the stars seem unsure, brighter by contrast
sparkling as if in uncertain anger
forlorn without their battered leader?
jubiliant in their newfound freedom?
The milky way - hazy about its existence
sings a faraway lullaby
The breeze is cold - chiding a lone skyseeker
Hush, sleep tonight.
Part of a Mane wall in village Saboo, Central Leh. Mane are the stones on which sacred lines from Buddhism are written in the Bhoti script.