A Poem by the Director of the World Jewellery Museum
Museum Actually
Late autumn rain smeared with nine stars
Clouds and wild grass sway to rhythm of the rain
A night when all flows into swamp of silence,
A pair of sparrows disturbs their sleeping companion
Whose dreams follow musical notes of the rain drops
The rain refuses to turn down its volume.
On a night like this I remain alone in the empty museum.
As if lost in meditation
The collection feeds on silence,
Like a sleepwalker
On a long path that leads to home,
Following the African crimson ocher road
Or deep in the heart of the Andes ravine.
Like bosom friends who rely on each other’s weight
Our hearts beat in unison with no shadow in between.
Their soft voices whisper love to me,
Yet they betray longing for the land they have left behind.
We all sing
“Carry me home.”
How far you have travelled!
I am a global gardener
Sowing museum’s seeds deep in your hearts,
Planting the roots of your destiny here
To inspire and nourish.
