Red as blood or red as the pomegranate juice,
Yellow as gold or shall I say yellow as the mid day sun,
Rhythm of a song or rhythm of absolute silence
Rain, a soulful symphony, ocean waves, the tranquil breeze…
This inebriated poetess needs no more disguises.
Colours, music, magic, beauty...
All that gives life to poetry, ends in you
You are no longer the muse, my love
But the spirit of love conjured by my written words
You are the poem
Written after the mayhem in the mind subsides
You are the end
The end which comes after a million prayers
The end which brings relief from intense suffering
The end which heralds a new beginning.