somewhere near the spoken and unspoken in a time stitched into the mesh of camaraderie beings are too easy to vanish in an oblivion created by business of a galloping heart and lure of wealth
and though winds are fast with waters still she feels the tug of roots pulling her back to memories and vivid textures of paint once audaciously smeared on sheets of paper now form a collage of muddy remembrance
but with a blow of passions under her wings and hearkening to voices of accomplishment her being must go on to a different place to transform but not vanish into a galaxy of stars all alike but be the sun of a million souls yet remain the glisten of morning dew yet remain the chirp of blossoms yet remain a crochet of smiles
though she does not wait or beg for world to join her or apologize for giving into her desires it is with this start the floating dream of success awaits in celebration of which under twinkling heavens bidding farewell to an October night she slips into the trance of kathakali and every beat of her feet counts down to the advent of orange morning light of her own small sun
curtain falls on the play of stars when tinders burn out of bonfires and pale smiles retreat to reality's house...
my eyes retire confined to a neverland again fingers feel the thin bark of an orange tree and citrus sweetness fills the air walking in someone's lost garden on a red cliff the petrichor from tired grass soaked in night dew gets narrated through her unfinished poem resting under a violet pebble and a clueless white lily
on the chariot of sunrays piercing azure skies i walk barefoot on yellow leaves fallen dead so gracefully in lap of autumn hiding any remnants of spring left by the brook that flows past my pillow
when lights are out and moon sleeps but sun shines in all its glory behind my closed eyes i see her in them with breeze dancing through her hair stray dandelion seeds circling her feet standing far moving farther still against a surreal backdrop of wilderness
shall i stretch out my hand step closer to her fading image or retreat to promise of a new spring warmth which they say waits for me at the other side of fall
only if pictures came to life and life were scribbled ink i'd live the moments not with eyes shut but in vivid audacity of my paintings i'd live us everlastingly not just when lights are out by brook that flows past my pillow
Gathering colors of day sea of green viridian, washing storms of grey seagulls cry in shades colored blue how mad the ocean's raving tune it sweeps away the end of day to paint the sky of blackness a pale moon fades beyond the sway of silvery shades night shimmers its way into red and blue where fiery clouds ignite the day once more anew.