Untainted by yesterday’s touch, away from tomorrow’s eyes...virgin,
pure is when is today... an evidence of all possibilities...
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
Leftovers
7th January 2012
Vast expanses now filled with colours so many, of flowers
shouting of perpetual happiness. Not the best day of his life, for more are to
come, holding promises no one can yet foresee... however the beauty is yet
unmatched, envious to the most dazzling bride, to the starlit sky and even the
rain. But he can see, hidden under this magnificence, there are the leftovers
of that night.
Little does anyone know but him about the storm that stopped
by. Caught him by surprise, or a trick so common? Unprepared, he hung on
through the night, so he could catch just a glimpse of daylight in sometime.
The day came, so did the patch-ups... here and there and there too.
Everywhere... the brokens were mended, shattered dusted, fallen collected, lost
looked for... the land of flowers, bare, torn down stared him in the eyes...do
you dare? He did, and now the flowers let it forget that night.
The colours struggle to preserve their beauty under the
unending fight with the dominance of that which is white...for it conceals, and
doesn’t clean anything away, the nothingness is an illusion. Starting
afresh is a deception, continuance and consequences follow, and go on as if to time
without end. He might have ploughed the land to start anew, but the storm that
had died has left its ashes behind, and it is a matter of time to assess the
vitality of these leftovers...
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