By Ashima Syal
I know not, of my art is longing for me or am I longing for art?
There is no canvas in my hands! But still I see nature as my Canvas.
The corner of pink periwinkles is making me Pink.
The sunset is calming me in the chaotic fall of all that the day holds.
I' m walking in the solace of singlehood. I wonder, have I evolved to be an artist of my soul.
There are yards of marigolds!
reminding me of mandarin oaks.
The fleet of colours is gusing through the mirror of my soul.
My soul, which from a white rose, has just turned into a red crest.
The sound of the blank slate has changed into shades of snow!
Is this my longing or is this where I belong?
The longing of nature, for nature longs only to walk along,
walk along the sound of the soul. For this, this is the art that nature holds.