The Wind and the Tree

In the days of old, on an isolated icy mountain, far up the Northern belt of a place that now boasts only of ruins, of debris, of poetry - of the essence of a great love that once existed; a great battle, that once was fought; and the low, pining rustling of the suspicious, secluded,…

The Wild Woods

Don’t dare to delve so deep, dear child, into the dark woods that you cannot find your way back… The woods are green and glorious, yes, but the woods are grim and ghastly too. The tenacious woods will trap you within themselves, closing in on you, climbing up your very toes, causing you to tumble…

The Wilderness

The road was lit in a wild flower frenzy - a fray of ferns wayward and hapless, yellow trees rose in a tumultuous melee with battered rocks fragmented and strewn like shrapnel. Crisp cracks housed the dust in the grey concrete; dry buttresses boasted of mossy branches; browning bushes sneaked up suddenly like bandits, as…

Whispers of the Trees

The Mountains watched as the Trees conversed, on a scorching summer's day, about another Mountain now submerged, and become a turquoise bay... How battered and how ruined most Land, how filthy and how dead the Seas, how uncertain does the Forest stand... will someone hear their plea? The Mountains watched as the Trees conversed, on…

Ishaism – June

The Mountains talk of the world, then shed mighty rivers - reminiscent, reproachful...resigned... © Isha Garg