A little boy is afraid of darkness. To overcome the fear, he decides to lock himself in a room full of darkness. Everyone else will obviously think he's crazy not knowing the reason for his actions. If and when he finally decides he's not scared of the dark anymore and he's ready to go out, it'll take him a long while to adjust to the light outside of the room. Or worse, he'll decide he likes the dark better than the *light.

It was love at first sight
the first time my soul
took a leap of faith
in the sweet prints,
most essential nirvana
the universe freely offered,
a sightseeing forest.
Prime echoes of forever after
as my heartbeats builds a
symphony of melodic serenity
I feel liberated
for my consciousness enhances
a peace of mind,
a piece of nature
recreating my art.
My heart is sanctified
purely surrounded with
nature’s calming energy,
divine connection so lively
in my spiritual activities;
burning the incense
to revive the earth’s essence
grasping the sage,
qualities of an indigo child.

A kind of blue lay
thick over her,
swallowing mouthfuls of suffocation
and drowning in nourishment. It's times like these
when the person you are today
doubts if they can reinvent themselves in time
for tomorrow. Blue is everywhere
like your perspective is bruised
and it feels like hell.

The familiar grip of apathy
makes everything foreign
and you're wilting under water like
some kind of mutant...

Observing people talk with an unrestrained
fluidness is enchanting and why doesn't
your erratic behaviour include something useful
in its repertoire? You swallow things that burn
but spit it out again because
all the nerves in your system left you
for a love affair less volatile.

This kind of blue is fickle. Its melancholy
in a heartbeat. It makes you lie awake
in bed until the sheets have lost the warmth
of your empty touch, examine heartbreak like
its a specimen of a scientific experiment. It makes
you hyper aware of nostalgia at 3am. It takes your
breath away and clouds your eyes with an absent minded
look. It's a surge of sorrow and a burst of hope
unceasingly whispering in your ear...

Someone's talking but you're not listening. The world's
troubles are rippling through you, and
this kind of blue makes you silent.
This kind of blue is you.