The liquid wears off.
the solid stays on.
Something inside me turns to fire,
peaks at emotions,
Melts into tears of longing,
What am I longing for, I do not know,
Maybe more of my elixir.
Maybe more of mine.
The world looks different now,
the colors more real,
Boundaries more blurred unlike the harsh corners that cut me everyday.
My hand's blurred too,
Maybe its me that's shifting,
for my head turns with each shift in vision.
The blue of the table is so vivid now.
The white petals of flowers scattered all over it.
Are they real?
Does it matter?
For there's a curious abandon now,
Infinite acceptance of as is.
The petals are some big and some small,
There's the yellow heart.
It lies at the corner of my table,
Centre of life once,
fallen to the corner, that its dead.
How tragic is the scene.
Should I call help for this poor flower?
Who's pining for this lifeless beauty?
Some petals stick together,
their last bid to become one before they're torn.
Some have just broken through.
The flecks of blue visible through the broken white
Its like an inverse image of the pregnant sky,
or maybe the ever turbulent tornado in a calm ocean.
This table has expanded,
Curiously, without an end.
Wherever my hand goes, there's the blue.
The blue of death,
Maybe death doesn't have to be black.
There's no table,
Just an expansive deathbed of these petals.
There's a shiny patch of white.
The petals in water.
The cold of the liquid seems to have seeped into their hearts.
The blue cold, the white death,
now the blue death.
Water looks more alive now,
with floating bodies of white.
If I focus enough,
I can see the summer ocean,
Sun sparkling off its surface.
Blinding white and blue,
But I could see through that.
I could dip my head through that blue.
Into the white-blue.
It was almost like the white gave blue life,
The blue only took the life
as deep as it could,
before turning to a heavy bed of nothing and everything.
Can I look through this blue?
Everything seems darker now,
Liquids merge into the eternal darkness.
I want to explore this blue.
It's cold, like lifeless nothing.
There's nothing under this blue,
The white stops at the surface.
Ah, here comes a trickle of the water's life.
What a symphony of existence,
Life travels to life on blue.
This cold is so inviting.
My eyes seem leaden with the depth of this color.
I can see my eye,
In the water, on the blue,
It looks strangely red and yellow.
The setting sun across the sky.
Another lifeless center scattered not too far.
A solitary petal stops near my eye.
The colorless living water's lifeless tear.
Its like water expresses its melancholy through this white.
Still soft to the touch,
But form never changes.
What changes is my will to see it.
So I close the red and yellow,
To the endless blue,
With a center of white.