Like the fallen bridge pieces,
tripped many a time in life
crossing even the levelled one's
asked for a hand to help.
Solitude or inactivity
submerged wet depths
in unwanted waters.
Five years of meditation
and scribbling morning pages
the broken soggy wood of the
old soul seems unrecognisable.
The subtle urge to not react,
the little nails of perseverance
indeed a shelter built with no one's help
where each wooden bit is a new me.
Each time we stare its a new you
the black sometimes embedded in white
the dark patchy gloom never tiring to exist.
At moments, the snowy white freckles
stir milky drops of hope in life.
You condense and expand as an amoeba
your each new shape even Geometry puzzled to label
You remind us of light cotton balls blown away by wind
Your shimmering radiance pales even the icy glaciers.
A game of hide and seek you play
with colours of black and white
there is no nook you did not visit
there is no corner you did not hide
The indigo blue sky a free witness to your game of chess
The vapoury clouds below, subtly balancing your zebra shades
your greyish tinges peeking on and off.
Life indeed a precarious canvas of dark and light tones
each one's paintbrush juggling the black with the white.
