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Only when i let the colors slip through my fingers,
my soul flies back to me….

in the criss cross of lines,
i try to find a line that holds the truth..

i smear dark shades of blues and reds merging them into each other,
trying to get hold of my life..

rubbing my thumb over the bark of a tree,
tracing its texture..

i crave for more,
the nature…
its serenity..

a human form sketched at the last page of my sketch pad…
a figure bowing…

i search for the voice within…
shrill and yet sacred…

i rush my brush strokes blindly…

coats of paint overlapping,
i add in more colors to feed my hungry thoughts..

the unspeakable…
speaks volumes through the curves and twists..

the tree and the pigeons…
the huge blades of yellow green barley..

i paint with the hands which dont belong to me..
they move with a thought of their own..
goin to where the brush takes them…
stroke after storke i stand in a trance, with my feet numb..
i drop my arms,

close my eyes and surrender my existence..
to the moment..

Back to life.

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