BY KSANBOR SHULLAI
Can I capture happiness, the way
A painter captures a beautiful scenic day?
Attempting to evoke all goodness known.
Clear skies from the finest blue acrylic paint
With soft wash white strokes of cool wind
Swaying the rich greens of impasto grass
Shaded by cotton clouds above film, shaped
By skilled hands, glazed by yellow sunlight.
Canvas traction inside the deckle edge, has
Immortalized, by eyes capturing the palette,
A veduta brushed into the painter’s soul.
What does it mean to write about my happiness?
When differing reports signify it’s presences.
A shelter-hole during a vicious hurricane
Glooms our spirit when it’s ugly depths
Sit on pastures devoid of drought-lands.
When blinded by vivid visible spectrums,
The blackest of inks becomes my guide.
Reminded that I can not just stroll when asked
To dance to human instruments of duality.
My parched searching for happiness quenched
In the darkest of abyss by a drenched heart.
A writer with a passion for storytelling. Has experience as a freelance content writer and aims to work as a screenwriter in the Filmmaking industry. Holds a Bachelor's degree in Horticulture (for day job purposes) and pursuing a master's in English Literature (career purposes).