Tag Archives: #ink

The love for ink.

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Tell me the ways in which I can colour my canvas more?My hands quiver and my heart palpitates further.The thirst remains unsatisfied,after embellishing my writing canvas with umpteen colours,is there a colour lacking still?I wrote with black and then with red,sometimes in vain and often in zeal.The paradox of learning the art still invigorates my very will.Oh how I loved the beautiful inks,the various synonyms for each emotion..sometimes fragile and sometimes sturdy. 

More and more I feel connected to my canvas,the beauty in it is indeed in my system,like the  art of addiction,yet not compulsion.The words and writings explain my deepest colour,oh do have you discovered yours yet?Go deep and dig further,till the ink explains your piece of earth in which you live.Is mud your thing or the valiant,bright flower?

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As I write..

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The intoxication within is powerful enough to infuse my pen with the darkest of tales to tell,

my heart is surreptitious at times,hiding even the lamest of smiles,

as I write,the emotions open up like blooming of blue-bells,now I know what all troubled me,

The white sheet was  dark before my ink decorated it with my diverse butterflies;

The sheet is adorned not with dust but with cuts of heart,

as I write,I learn the truth..

and so my pen does not halts,

I write..and write.