…..Saurabh Bosu……
I paint my ineffable illusions,
which imbue memories with colors.
And as the colors conflate
upon my canvas of desire; it ravels stories.
I find patterns in the bleakest structures,
which interfere together to make new geometry.
And as the lines meet upon my fabric of delusion;
it ravels confusion.
I seek pleasure in my deepest despairs,
which splatter the white with the darkest black.
And as my conscience absorbs
my true nature; it ravels fear.
So when my time for epiphany arrives,
and I’m busy ravelling my darkest secrets.
The painter must write and the writer must paint,
his most insignificant work.
For it being significant will ravel chaos.