Rainbow

What makes you think
It will disappear
When you tell it to,
That it will fade
If you close your eyes?

What makes you think
The images will stop
Changing form and color;
That the birds that hover around your head
Will fly away?

What makes you think
Your words will heal, kill, purify,
Resurrect, or chain to graves
All colors that change
From green to red, to orange, from black to blue to gray?

Not to white
Not to white

What makes you think
You can wash all colors in the rain
And expect a white canvas
To throw colors again?

What makes you think
All colors will remain frozen
And not change
Within the wall
You build around it?

You and I

You and I
at times resurface from under water
where we choose to live
most moments.
Till we can hold our breath,
till the floating aqua and the marine
entice…
till thoughts bubble
and draw us
back to the surface
for a glimpse.
Where time breathes in air thin
and we have only as many moments
to gulp in the air,
keeping up the chin.

Where visions are far in between and few
so we just exchange pleasantries,
and maybe a word or two
that gingerly allude to the
tempests heaving within
and before the lungs threaten to expend
those breaths waiting in abeyance,
we dive on the double…
to resurface
only when those thoughts
yet again bubble…
Ones that hold within
a world of dewy dreams
that is blithely singular
amidst echoes of discordant regimes.

Dreams....

AD.
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Silent.