As light flees fast, past,

Rushes to our cover, envelope.

Plunge in the black sea, for the light 

At the end of its smooth horizons.

The color that ceased to live on,

To reflect the brightness in iris.

The one that disagrees with all —

Nevertheless brings out best in them;

Brings out the beauty in you.

The flakes of light against this despised one

Or the silent tide we yearn to drown?

Picture by Neha Menon ©
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