On the Wings of Time

I travel within my loneliness.
I am the favorite of tortured clamps.
Walking barefoot on hot sand
               under the blazing sun,
I have known deserts for centuries.
I know
           shadows do not exist here.
How could I then be deceived?
In a moment, I fell from over there to here:
Is this reality or a heaven of dreams:
         clouds raining over desolate lands
         rivers flowing in the desert
         flowers blooming in the midst of flames
         musical notes in a waste-land.
Who has freed existence from its cross?
Eyes are lit up with dreams.
How was the inner thirst satisfied?
How did the cup reach my lips?
Why doesn’t the fire burn me to cinders?
How come miracles are taking place once again?
A moment took me to such wondrous places!
Is this reality or a heaven of dreams?
Such a swift flight is possible only for the wind
         or perhaps for dreams.