Nowadays, whenever I come to this little corner of mine, I will always paint my wall blue... blues fill up ever little corner... Has my blues being conditioned? perhaps...
I am with blood that runs the essence of blue...
the drops that though transparent will fall into the pool of blue sea... becoming part of the blue ocean, yet not quite blue when scooped up, cupped in both hands... it is clear and colourless, changing, adapting to the colour of its background... I yet I never really leave the blues behind... it is always tailing... tailing the fluid in me... blue veins filled the things that are not to be seen from the outer skin...
What lies...
what drips blue? it is trickling from me... is it an endless draining? or should I put a stop to it...
I love the blues too dearly, though it tore and clawed me so... I know the price will need to be paid in the end...
I shall see someday... at the crossroads... of what lies behind... the bushes with tulips or a field of buttercups that are so very common even on roads ahead...
No comments:
Post a Comment