The Wheat Fields of Vehari

There were no strings attached,
no memories,
no flashbacks
For it was like never before...

The walking stick; a Eucalyptus branch
And I, all alone, with me, myself
and a hundred thousand lithe dancers,
clad in gold,
dancing,
whirling
twirling,
making way for me,
from no where
to no where
and telling me,how somethings ought to be grand
without beginning,
without end