Vibgyor

And where was your attention?
When the wood turned into fireflies,
Each burnt flake waited for unison
Sparks fly likewise in the dead of night.

I am a traveler of the abstract,
Squeezing myself where misfits live
In my nothingness of voids
One dies in a massacre of beliefs.

Yet, I swim where densities collide
The whirlpool you see is all mine
The ripples lag reach you in time
I'm gone when you open your eyes.

When did I care to care about myself?
I was born to experience syntaxes.
Like a hot balloon in a violent mid-flight,
I pull my strings; yours are too tight.

Are you still trying to shape my wind?
Until you realize failure, attempts are futile.
But realization itself is another mess
Droplets of ink are scattered along the lines.

These lines run along my forehead
And I'm just a little too tall for you
So you can't and won't worry, my friend.
Your Sunday blues, you better hang on to .

Where I stand, my legs turn fluid
My fingers, like those of a musician
A painter , a vulture, a murderer
Run; where they shouldn't as part-timers.

So let me fly
For I do not belong to any of you.
Like a cloud that rains over deserts
I am a self propelled, lost Vibgyor.