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The white bloom fell,
A soft thud on the ground.
A journey completed, a destination reached,
A life ended.
The white bloom shrinks
The white bloom fades
Into an oblivion, little by little
Vein by vein
Dusk by dusk
Into the even-ness of Silica.
The white is now accompanied by its contrasts.
Eating it up, but a companion it sure is.
Is that right?
Is that wrong?
Is there a right and wrong?
The accelerated evaporation of the white bloom couldn't answer.
The companion couldn't answer.
Could the white bloom define right and wrong?
Could the Silica ground define right and wrong?
So, did the zillion questions fade into an oblivion.
Define we certainly could.
Was there a credibility of it being the ultimate? Repudiation.
Nature lets it be.
Lets the moon be, even when it disappears.
Lets the waves be, when it is intense.
Lets the rain pour, when the sky can't hold it anymore.
Lets things be, the way it is.
No definitions, no theories,
No what if(s), no planning,
Letting it be, the way it is.
Why do we feel the need to define everything? Why do we feel the need to analyze everything?
Why do we feel the need to rush past life, juggling towards the supposedly assumed destination, and not focus on the journey?
Let it be.
Let it be.
Let it be. :)
© 20th February 2016
Deekshita Srinivas