The Feather

The wind takes away the sand in my hand,
I wonder where it goes.
And, then I realize I am a feather
I go far away,
I won't come back again.

I will move from the meadow
And go through the desert
Perhaps I will rest..
And contemplate

I will contemplate
I will consider what I have done.
But sometimes what you do seems to have no consequences
Or so you think

But what matters is, that even the feather will
Will pay for what is done.
Like the sand it too will move, free of will
Never return to the same place

Move ahead, but carry the past
The further it moves the more it carries
Heavier and heavier
Till it will rest..

Not going to ever return again..
I will rest and contemplate once again
This time, still..