Murli Menon - Poem

I've been loitering again,
Over hills and valleys;
Of my own creation.
I wander....
Over the blue waters of the ocean,
Untouched by storm or gale;
Over swaying palm trees,
Which shelter those winged crooners.
I wander...
Over mangrove swamps, wherein dwell death in hiding.
Over peaks and ridges
Which astound the bravest;
Over firs and birches,
Which crave to reach the stars.
At night I ride the crescent moon,
From one end of the horizon to the other
I flirt with the luminous stars;
As I pass them by.

Yet I am no winged bird,
Nor do I possess man made wings;
I am just a rider,
In the chariot of my dreams.
 Torment