You’ll find me adding salt to the sea,
taking to the sky with a brush of blue,
spitting on grass one mouthful after the other,
urging it to grow a greener hue.
I’ve always found a way,
as unconventional as it may come,
I’ve found a home locked inside myself,
whilst others created slums.
When I was still drinking a milk bottle,
I’d use it to oil my bike,
I’d pull things apart, put them back together,
just to know what inside was like.
This became the way for me,
curious, day in and day out,
I found solace in quiet, irrespective of riot,
stayed contained, even though I wanted to shout.
Thus I found there’s no end in sight for me,
even nature has no ceiling,
I’ve quietly contained, limitless and insane,
obscure, and amidst the torture, found healing.
I find it odd when people are pessimists,
looking at the world from a lens of gloom,
I know why they are like that though,
it’s because inside of them, they’ve never decorated a room.
It takes a lot of quiet and reserve,
selective hearing, and I don’t mean ignoring,
rather I mean listening intently, watching closely,
seeing the details and dreaming, whilst others are snoring