Mask

Who am I?
The red of your wrath
that rabidly finds its path
to get closer to the green
of your envy in all its sheen.

Who am I?
That bright shade of yellow
which spreads cheer, which is ever mellow;
that streak of aqua blue
of which no one has a clue.

"Why then do you wear a nonsensical mask?"
In ignorance, do you solemnly ask.

So, who am I?
Well, your hue(s) am I.

Image courtesy: Theresa

Aham Brahmaasmi

In the drop of paint that unites bristles;
In the notes of music born out of reeds
Is one of the most fulfilling deeds,
Completing which the heart joyously sizzles.

While holding a pencil to make a sketch,
While twisting the legs to make a step,
While saying a joke to make feel pep,
While producing music with a magical touch.

While giving shape to a mound of clay,
While stringing words to make a verse,
While knitting yarn to make a purse
Moments of idleness does a man slay.

While breathing life into an inanimate figure,
While chiseling an idol out of a rock
Mortality does the creator mock.
His/her heart does grow bigger and bigger.

Glowing bright, creative light
Exhibits its eternal, joy-giving force.
An artist in his/her life's course
Demons many does he/she tirelessly fight.

The Ocean

Shallow waters have no treasures.
But you people are lucky
For, I'm an ocean.
An artist is a creator.
Unfathomable is his depth.
Immeasurable is his love.

Colourful fishes are found
When he is happy.
Treacherous ones are found too
When he is sad.
Therein lies the beauty;
The colours are too vivid.
The dark areas are too uninviting.

No restrictions, no limits.
Various things dwell in him
The source of which is a mystery.
But swim in him or sail on him
He'll give you pleasure always.
Extreme artist.