I asked the skies, in all innocence about the beauty of a soul, and she replied in all silence. When she brought the sun, to shower his rays o'er eyes that refused to wake up from the intoxication of night, I grabbed a fistful of saffron, golden yellow, red and smeared it upon my skin. The skies rejoiced my attempts at artistic expression of my self, but preferred to answer through their clouds that now involved in a spurious clash, from a genteel drift. They poured, against the claps of thunder, and lightning that seemed to guide the rain to pour all over me, much against my vain attempts at protest. It rained a unified river of saffron, golden yellow and red, while the sky opened up her clouds and summoned the sun to throw his light upon my now, baptised self, the wind caressing my skin as the puddles now, reflected my self. // Maybe that was the sky's way of saying it. #prose #poetic #writersofinstagram #writer #writing #writersofindia #author #indianwriters
