Water Colored Sky

Forget “if”
The if is a meaningful source
Of illusions and mind games
Of “but” and “could be”

Of have nots
the cause and creation
Of desires
Bound by the norms
Barricaded
within
The metal encasement
Of an attire made out of
“self”
The very self
that stands between
Words
And
Actions
Holding back
A flood gate
of semi spoken phrases
Of a story “never told”
Of a wish
Lost in a whisper
That died
at the lips of yearning
Like a bird
Dismantling it’s nest
One straw at a time
Like a hand
That grows old
And the creases on the palm
vanish
One at a time
Slow and deliberate
The time moves
Yet everything halts
The same day is lived
Again
And again
Till it becomes
A procedure
Tailored to meet
Requirements
Arrangements
Bizzare and elaborate
Schemes
Weaved by life
The social presentation
A display
Crafted to
Mutilate
Hope
To blank out
To wipe out all but
The disconnect

Slow and torturous, 

every jibe, 

every single stroke 

is stronger than the previous attack. 

Strong enough to just shatter 

and a little shy 

of complete 

and absolute destruction.

I may have not been seeking 

more wisdom to contemplate 

whatever is the superior plan.

 I do not believe 

that an elaborate reward awaits 

and my patience will be fruitful. 

I just understand 

the amount of injustice 

I have done with myself 

by staying 

just comfortably 

smaller, 

lesser human being,

 a lesser existence 

is unforgivable. 

Make a fusion

Of life and beyond life

And foes and companions

Scale companionship 

And learn the myriad ways 

This cycle goes on

Drench into streams

Of gold from the sun

And richness of blue sparkling brooks

Tell me which is better?

Breathe into the sweetness without looking

And feel the innocence of young blossoms

And understand the difference 

Between vision and faith

Read the silence

And blind out the bitter words

Watch how the souls communicate

And distance is just a measure 

Of numbers

That don’t matter

Mirror only tells what you can see

Try not to see

Just an image

Bring out the fire

That moulds

And not burns

Because scalds and bruises only surface

When you let them

Enlightenment might come from

Hatred itself

Teach yourself things you cannot see

Absorb radiance 

Spread fragrant thoughts

As the lines between the two worlds are very faint

And we have roots in both

Wisdom will cure

Breach the years between you

And what you can fathom

Make it happen now

Merge 

Shed the false cover

Float into nothingness

Humble down your arguments about truth

You are the truth

Your are the same

But not as your image

But as your reflection in others

In an eloquent

But bizzare 

Dreamy and blurry 

Bits and pieces  of 

An incomplete story

I hope to heal

Some gaping bruises

A balm that would miraculously  heal

Mend 

Put together

shape up 

And re-model

The truth 

Behind a very gray

Almost dark 

Practically non-existent 

Hierarchy of events

Re-write the plot

Punch in some beleivable action

And merge it into the reality 

A test 

An assessment of how much

I can change

I can reconsider 

Give myself a chance 

Because

When all else fails 

There is always a bit of 

Me

Left in “me”

That can drive

Crazily

Into the intoxication 

Of a wonderland 

That can twist and twirl

And form 

A fable

And I can dance through the

Orchards 

And blossom

And glow

And make it look

As if destiny itself

Met me

And greeted me

To sing

To paint

To write 

Over and over again

Till I get it right

Till the seeker 

Reaches what it seeks 

Till it is 

More of what I suppose it was

Or less of what I believe it is

And all of that begins to spin

So there is just one image

Just one solid 

Theme

A very fine, fully formed

Elegantly designed

And well articulated 

Desirable outcome

And an agreeable milestone 

Where I could stand

And own it

And live through it 

Forgetting purpose

Forgetting actuality 

Reason and rational 

Just be

To be 

If it matters at all

a big warm palm

a big beary hug

small chuckles

and funny faces

my visions of our tiny world

with maple leaves

swings

cold air

dried twigs

small puddles

stone paths

woollen coats

muffs

mittens

cuddly kittens

freshly baked cookies

hot cocoa

cakes that smelt like oranges

dresses that dazzled

hairdos

frills

ruffles

dolls

and doctor roleplay

to being a real one

clasping hands

holding

promising

walks in misty morning

hoping to catch the sun

damp and slippery paths

never letting the small feet tumble

the graceful gait

the inspiring smile

that level headed little directions

never letting me waiver

you were

you are

all I was

and all I would ever be

MUM

you plunged,

and dived,

into the softness,

into the very depth,

of the darker,

more gullible,

phases of the story,

story of my life,

very benignly,

penetrating into the sieves,

into the disaster borne,

blunderous mess,

one after the other,

slowly occupying victoriously,

every possible,

barren piece of prohibited land,

promising  a reward for being an occupant,

I waited…

and waited,

for centuries,

very patiently,

to drench into the downpour,

to soak myself,

when the fruit of forbearance showers,

so that it would descend,

upon the loneliness,

and wash it away,

with strides of strong currents,

but all it did was,

snatch me away from myself,

and while I was gone,

the world spun a thousand years,

a thousand moons,

and a thousand seasons,

in a blur,

it all kept slipping away from me,

so much so that when it stopped,

I was all gone…