Why are you afraid of deviations?
It’s a natural phenomenon,
When medium is changed light deviates,
And the seven beautiful colors,
Appear as a beautiful rainbow,
Plurality is the offshoots of singularity,
Let these colors play their roles,
On the day of convergence,
There will be no color,
The rainbow will be converged at the focus.
There we shall see a white shining point.

Human color vision is trichromatic,
It’s your vision that makes many colors,
We are subjected to a cycle,
Convergence and divergence,
Confined in a point,
We all would be waiting,
For another divergence,
Another illusion,
Another deception,
Another rainbow!

Colors don’t exist,
Tastes don’t exist,
Sounds don’t exist,
Smells don’t exist,
Touches don’t exist,
I don’t exist,
You don’t exist,
It’s thinking only thinking,
That really exists.

Whatever you feel an illusion is it,
And you fight so cruelly,
For these deceptive illusions!
Think and let others think,
Everyone has his own specific thinking,
Live and let others live,
Everyone has his own specific living,
Life is an illusion, enjoy it as a dream.

My dreams are colorful,
You come in my dreams as a different beloved,
Everyday a new color of your dress,
A new fragrance of your hairs,
A new taste of your lips,
A new amazing touch,
You clever sweetheart,
You don’t know my thinking soul,
Recognizes your naughty soul!
Sweetheart love is a feeling,
And feeling is thinking,
Think more of me,
Feel more of me
Love me more,
Before we all are converged.

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1 Comment on "Deviations"

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Akhtar your poems always delight me and I must read a few times so try and get
your meaning and not my own.
Life is an illusion, enjoy as a dream, my sentiments excactly. We can never see
through someone elses eyes. so we never know how they view colour or anything
else for that matter.
I watched someone who was given sight and they looked at a vase, they were
bamboozled for they did not know what they saw. They closed their eyes and felt
the vase then they knew, colour clouds everything they in their minds eye had envisaged
it was so different and became so distressed they wished they were blind again.
So that is what came to my mind to try and understand the depths in your poem.
ha ha my minds eye has always rose coloured specs on.