(30 x 40 inches)
The pouring paint moves across the melting skies; the deafening noise and last streaks of sun; bath in her confession. Confession that is bounded by pillars of ‘submission’. A continuous struggle for acceptance; as empires fall and collide. Dispersed armies rejuvenate and mobs carry shaved and naked hearts onto symphonies of verdicts and opinions.
On surface of my battered canvases; diasporas emerge and sink; onto threshold of fluctuating epochs. Power circles grabble and struggle to brace last glories of acclaim. Acclaim, which decorates graves of plastic florals, and hangs muted screams; as emblems. A world of continuing shutters; where healers and guardians embrace coats of self- exile; and she confides in naked alleys Alleys, which were once meant to be shaft of heaven. Luring and superfluous; guilts are only a disguise. Howling winds and quills of narration; ink spills on the carpets and residuals only mirror an aftermath.
But as the rays of these fireflies settle on tunnels of darkness; those tiny buds navigate my strokes onto a distant world. A world of dreams, where she roams on an elusive isle; and I wander onto hues of paint, to once again brace those heavenly tears, and gardens of newer life. A life, where melancholy is no more; and butterflies hover, onto dawn of a new beginning. Surrendering reasons to withdraw, I just remain bedazzled within marvels and miracles of that distant wonderland