Lightbulb Sun

It is that hour before dawn,

Mind full of excesses sought.

An entire night has passed since the sun,

In a night so dark the sun seems to have burnt its final.

So I will shut all curtains,

Blacken all the windows.

And live my life by the light of this light bulb,

Yellow iridescent sun in a ball of glass.

Outside the dawn rises,

And the sun arises from dreams of yellow glass.

But these windows have been long blackened,

And in this room the sun rises in helium glasses.

/* It is all about perspective. If you shut out all the windows , the lightbulbs will be the brightest things you have ever seen. */

A Rainbow of Autumn Colours

There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow,

For no rainbow ever is golden.

You shall reap as you sow,

As we do not deserve this Garden of Eden.

Golden rainbows have been lost in the worm hole,

And now gold within the seven colours is hidden.

Gold only in Eden shall survive into the morrow,

So she hid herself with different colours laden.

With Violet , green , blue ,red and indigo,

Gold has always been smitten.

And in some corner of some cornered summer sky,

Lay a rainbow of autumn color.

Orange , red , brown of fallen leaves were its ally,

Faded green and mahogany were its pallor.

Colours of pathos , colors of sombre , colours of a lost might,

The autumn colours told a tale of lost valour.

A little sad, a little alone in that cornered summer sky,

No sunset could this rainbow discolour.

Maybe there was a hidden gold in its cry,

That made all the autumn colours look smaller.

/* It is incredible as to where you find beauty. Some see it in the multicoloured rainbow , and some in autumn colours. Let every man march to the music he hears ! */

Summer Song

That one song that always plays,

Reminding me of time slipping away.

Of sounds heard , of times of luck,

Of hisses , of tracks , of the summer’s glory .

Song of joy , song of melancholy ,

Song of remembrance , song of benevolence.

How do you fit every trend?

How do you fit all of my mind’s bends?

And I always remember my golden summer,

And how I tried to make it stay,

Like holding sand in my hands,

Alas , winter has dethroned lovely trance.

But tell me this dear song,

Will I make the summers stay?

Or will they always slip away?

Or even in the winters the summer within is here to stay?

/* The song I'm talking about is trains by porcupine tree. It is strange how this song has marked my life . It has a certain melancholy to it and also a certain joy to it that makes it fit for every situation. In the song , Steven Wilson sings , ' Always the summers are slipping away , find me a way to make it stay. ', as if saying that none of the good times will last , and it seems like he's crying in vain for a way to make it stay. And I wonder , what if you stop looking for happiness i.e the summer outside , and start looking for it inside. Then even the coldest winters will not affect the summers inside you. The last line is inspired by an Albert Camus quote. */