White

Hmm … and my mind begins to mêlée!!

The morning is here, as lithe as the ever changing light that slither around me. From dark to darker and slowly change to smell the distant colours of the cityscape. Awake in the silent early morning to write of the many colourless thoughts that foster inside of me. How can I write why I did not wake up yesterday morning? After so many needless answers a feeble reminder tells that to wake one need to sleep. If my mind is colourless like the mirage in a reflection, then my hand holds the ink of which I am the printing press. Remembering my old pressed notes like “she is dressed in white until pierced and flow a scarlet vase”.

After all those impatient thoughts in my mind, finally I decide to write. Pouring all those thoughts to a visible surface to see nothing is visible anymore. The fluid thoughts wash away the words as quickly as they settle. Seems like the pigment of the pencil, ink of the pen and the paper to write are all in white.