They gave me a book
Filled with stories and poems
Some legends and myths,
Many people and places.

I traveled from one to another,
Through tranquil, trauma and ripples of unnameable emotions.

There was a beach,
Blue under the starry starry night.
My escapade from the real world,
it’s waves beckoned me.
The stars consoled me in darkness As dancing fireflies weaved galaxies around me.

The book said melancholy was blue in colour.
I turned the page and forgot about it.

On another page I found a man lying on his deathbed.
It said he had shot himself in the field.
On his deathbed he mumbled to his brother "La tristesse durera toujours."Sadness would last forever.

They called him Van Gogh.
He painted crispy sunflowers.

I moved on to other stories.
One said that when the world ended, only oceans and skies would remain.
The universe would turn into a silent sphere of blue.

Years later I started painting. Blue skies and oceans beneath tall blue mountains.
My heart soared in the heights and sank in the depths of mighty blue.

Today when I re-read the book,
My walls and fingers soaked in blue, I realise what I had missed years ago.
Blue, the colour of melancholy, the shade of inexplicable sadness and beauty,
is all that would remain. The sunflowers will perish but the starry sky will live.

Co-author :- Manasa❤