Colours

 

Hey everyone!! It's been a long while since this blog saw some action. Hope this poem kickstarts things... Do go through it and leave your thoughts in the comments section below! Thanks ;)

It is really impossible to

Imagine a fresh color

That no one has seen-

Something new;

When to each passing day

There are, and will be

The same hues-

What’s the point anyway?

The point of the routine?

Of winning, and  losing, sometimes:

What’s meant to be, has already been;

The struggle, the path-

Both might be different

Yet the goal is

Relatively the same.

Then said the wingman raven

At his shoulder-

‘My nest on the conifer

Isn’t the safest haven.

A storm? A predator!

No, the very-homely branches

Aren’t permanent!

The goal may be similar

But the destination isn’t-

It’s how you see the same colors differently

that changes it.

Each road is different:

I gaze from the heights of my nest-

A new color is right there,

You just haven’t seen it yet!’

~Mustafa