My dear drop of blue ink

For so long you were lying dormant
nameless, formless,
encased within walls of boredom
-a dense nebula
compressed out of breath,
like emotion within pursed lips.

I touched you to paper and lo! A big bang!
You became a whole burst of things-
stories, animation, philosophy and art
scriptures, novels, poetry, cinema.

Entertained and amused, I have watched you,
while you’ve posed pretty on your displayed canvas, or
sat, thoughtful on your yellowing paper, or
wooed, charming on your flowing silks.

I gave you time and space,
meaning and consequence-
a drop sculpted into several,
like light through a kaleidoscope.

And there you are so oblivious
wrapped in your own importance
judging your victories and failures,
against measures of your own creation,
clinging on to objects, fleeting
not knowing,
that paper tears and canvas burns and silk wears off.

Oh my dear intelligible blue ink!
How I suffer to see you deceived!
How I ache to tell you what you are!
Only slivers of my imagination.

what have you to fear,
my dear drop of blue ink?

Let the papers tear and canvases burn and the silks wear off.
You are safe in my safety.
From me did you break into expression
and within me will you remain obscured,
till such time when out of boredom,
you’ll seek me to manifest you again.

Vismai Rao