Devoid of colours. The whole composition harnessed
into two eyes, their divine grace
No magic. The multitudinous firmament enjoined
only to crave hungr, it's fire
Call it Art or rather melancholy
accepting the atom of life
composing these greenary
blue, blue perception, miserable narration
No other weapon exists, no self-conceit
CHOUDHURI SUKUMAR
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/perception-4/
