It's like a dream bubble. Whether I sit still in a chair by the window, or cross legged on the floor in the balcony, by which tree branches rustle and wave, where crows come and perch and peer at me curiously, or a squirrel darts across, its fur the colour of the bark where it races up and down all day long, or a koel calling long and sweet. And my mind begins smearing, green, gold, red, blue, creating vivid, vibrant pictures on my silent canvas..
I try and make alive the colours that I see, the voices that I hear, in my world outside, in my world inside..fusing them both together..in my silent canvas.
I've been existing.. Being born and reborn.. Life after life, age after age.. Carrying my silent canvas in my heart, in my mind, in whichever direction my life lines twisted and turned. I look up at the sky and see clouds skidding by, the paintbrush in my mind paints them in their greys, in their sunlit golds and pinks. I walk on the cracked footpath, where each day I exercise my body, my mind, where an old man sits crunched, his claw hand emerging hesitantly, his rheumy eyes looking expectantly for the coin I give sometimes, while the paintbrush of my heart paints his yellow eyes, his worn teeth, his beaten face, his crumpled limbs, all in a heap, by a scatter of fallen leaves as withered as him, on the silent canvas of my mind.
I turn into a busy street.. Everyone is rushing, moving, pushing, scrambling.. Only the trees stand still, rooted to their stony spot, ignored, forgotten by the throngs.. I stand rooted with them, slowly watching the sun setting, sprinkling its crimson dust in the sky, on the leaves, on the ground.. And, while another day dies in its blood red hues, the street lights come alive, one by one in rows, spilling their yellow pools of light on the passers by hurrying home.
And I am the tree watching their faces shrouded in the half lit dark.. My silent canvas hurries along with them for a while, wondering which path they will take, wondering what their destination will be. Wondering what destiny I will give them in the silent canvas in my heart, in my mind.
I pause for a while, then take my solitary path into the silent canvas of my life... The dream bubble where I exist... Green, gold, red, blue... Life after life... Age after age.
I try and make alive the colours that I see, the voices that I hear, in my world outside, in my world inside..fusing them both together..in my silent canvas.
I've been existing.. Being born and reborn.. Life after life, age after age.. Carrying my silent canvas in my heart, in my mind, in whichever direction my life lines twisted and turned. I look up at the sky and see clouds skidding by, the paintbrush in my mind paints them in their greys, in their sunlit golds and pinks. I walk on the cracked footpath, where each day I exercise my body, my mind, where an old man sits crunched, his claw hand emerging hesitantly, his rheumy eyes looking expectantly for the coin I give sometimes, while the paintbrush of my heart paints his yellow eyes, his worn teeth, his beaten face, his crumpled limbs, all in a heap, by a scatter of fallen leaves as withered as him, on the silent canvas of my mind.
I turn into a busy street.. Everyone is rushing, moving, pushing, scrambling.. Only the trees stand still, rooted to their stony spot, ignored, forgotten by the throngs.. I stand rooted with them, slowly watching the sun setting, sprinkling its crimson dust in the sky, on the leaves, on the ground.. And, while another day dies in its blood red hues, the street lights come alive, one by one in rows, spilling their yellow pools of light on the passers by hurrying home.
And I am the tree watching their faces shrouded in the half lit dark.. My silent canvas hurries along with them for a while, wondering which path they will take, wondering what their destination will be. Wondering what destiny I will give them in the silent canvas in my heart, in my mind.
I pause for a while, then take my solitary path into the silent canvas of my life... The dream bubble where I exist... Green, gold, red, blue... Life after life... Age after age.
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