The glistening plumage of the Himalayan monal with its alluring autumn brushed tail, the saffron glow of marigold garlands in the flickering lamp light of the first dawn prayer, the red contrails of the fleeing day as the drowning sun displaces salt-flecked dreams in the eastern sea…
What if nature was too lazy to embellish creation with a million hues or our eyes so selfish that they streamed an endless grainy documentary in pixelating black and white? Can you unlearn colour? Can you look at a lotus petal and marvel at its lissom curves and read the haiku in its curling edge without breathing in its soft pink shade?
a single dewdrop
on the lips of the naked mist
a song without words