by Richa Sharma
At an airport’s escalator..
Automatically rising up
Levels of floor.. or of my being? I am split into the real and its metaphor..
Have to be most careful when at start n finish, where to put the foot.. Like in everything we do?
Unaware of what lies on the top floor.. or my destination?
Looking around as I rise.. is always beautiful..
Thinking of climbing as I rise, but then think of being lazy and enjoy the ride.. Like I want to enjoy breathing..
Hands have to be loose enough to let the railing slide by.. and then my heart enjoys love..
Commotion on the ground, peace only on the escalator, peace in knowing your rising, peace in knowing I’l be in my flight in less time..
I get down a few stairs and smile, I am a kid, playing..
The phone rings, pulls an adult out of the kid, with a focus, reaching the top..
Games become intolerable.. responsible mind takes over a happy heart..
Hold on the luggage becomes firm, brain shoots out the flight number like a computer, I’m proud of..
Now as I place my foot rightly on the last concrete step.. I am there, part of the commotion increasing it pushing around..
I completely would have forgotten and this miniature of living a life, would have gone by un noticed..
Had I not participated in “Ascension”.. climbing up an escalator wont be the same again for me or the readers!!