Yet again, it was the unpermitted.
Surely I have a thing for it.
No, I do not have to suppose anymore.
And in my confidence,
We know what we need to know.
(I thought I did, Foolishness smiles at me.)
You understand the arithmetic of the cerulean colour.
Remember? How once, I told you about a certain kind of Diagram?
Now I tell you how,
It radiates the ‘Darker Hue Of The Orange’.
Just as this evening sky,
Blushing the orange of the Sun.
And how fierce you are, Orange.
But admiring this, the cerulean wears it all.
(Can he now?)
Listen Grace, closely listen to this colour.
I find this serene. I wait for your meaning.
All the details you explore.
And the storms you bring in my cage.
Yet, the peace it brings.
Never had I thought,
that the storms bring along peace.
Of how you once
you told me about being illogical.
(I am being one with it now.)
I recall, the same day I met insecurity…
… (This Poem is Unfinished and will remain to be.)