Colourful Insights
Posted: 04 Jul 2017, 00:58
The world is gray
the reality cruel, they say
I am dreamer
of the reality, I am no keeper
of the dreams, I am a reaper
My head buried between the clouds
'tis a wonderland; the world, it shrouds
Colourful and bright,
Oh, what a majestic sight!
The universe, as if rehearsing to attain the proper harmony; ingenuity, it's verse.
The celestial bodies; an elysian vision, aligned—tempestuous to being the most calm;
This world is utopian, depends on the visionary; I had an epiphany.
The world is gray
The reality cruel, they say
I am a dreamer, a seeker
a wondering wanderer.
So, I write—
of the universe;
of better and of worse;
of the stars and the scars;
of the sky and of the people who are sly,
of the land and of the beaches and the sand, of the nature and its portraiture;
of the seasons, the treasons and all the reasons;
of the day, the night and of the midnight cry
and the wordplay that sits on the sheaf of leaves and heaves, appears to be magic in mayhem and tragic to phlegm.
the reality cruel, they say
I am dreamer
of the reality, I am no keeper
of the dreams, I am a reaper
My head buried between the clouds
'tis a wonderland; the world, it shrouds
Colourful and bright,
Oh, what a majestic sight!
The universe, as if rehearsing to attain the proper harmony; ingenuity, it's verse.
The celestial bodies; an elysian vision, aligned—tempestuous to being the most calm;
This world is utopian, depends on the visionary; I had an epiphany.
The world is gray
The reality cruel, they say
I am a dreamer, a seeker
a wondering wanderer.
So, I write—
of the universe;
of better and of worse;
of the stars and the scars;
of the sky and of the people who are sly,
of the land and of the beaches and the sand, of the nature and its portraiture;
of the seasons, the treasons and all the reasons;
of the day, the night and of the midnight cry
and the wordplay that sits on the sheaf of leaves and heaves, appears to be magic in mayhem and tragic to phlegm.