I sit there, amazed... Watching you dance barefoot on that moist grass. As you crush those green fruity little petals, They leave a trace on your foot and colour you with their melancholic green shades. Though the one's left alive, As they preserve your impressions... don't mourn. Even in death, they capture your prominent edges. Is it a sin to capture in my poetry, vibrancy, in something destructive... like death? I can't help but feel like even that graveyard is Celebrating with you... Dancing with you... And that all of nature is in a spell of you. Just like I am.
All my life I believed that blue tells the tales of woe, That misery dresses herself in blue. But as this blue and limitless sky wraps the euphoric life within, As the animals given the gift of flight sing the songs of heaven, As the white cotton candies decorate the blue, sprinkling their sweetness all over... And as the moisture-laden winds seep through your hair knots, Unfolding them and announcing their freedom... Blue no more remains the colours of misery.
And I stand here, Watching, As the blue and green kiss at the horizon, Giving a part away as they melt into each other, Completing life.
Maybe this is why green is called a happy colour And blue recited as a melancholy, For they were known not as who they were, But as what they would metamorphose into, Every twilight, Giving birth to philosophies, Poetic metaphors, And nameless elusive feelings... Giving birth to bleen.
Panoramic landscapes akin to this, makes me realize That, This is why there is no definition of life. No words to explain it, No way to decipher the intricacy For it can't be... Only described. You can never truly know what it is, Just drown in what it feels like.
And then there is always you... Always at the centre of life happening. -Gopika