Engrossed

Wielding that brush-
With the colours of Life,
Arrayed in splendour…

She wondered what
Her brush would choose.

Not matter, though,
She knew – the colours
Would be those,
Destined to meet and merge;
And fill that-
Envisioned in the
Artist’s Soul.

Chewing upon his Pencil’s stub,
Vacuously-
He wondered at those
Words, that eluded him;
As he groped, for their
Sustenance, their life-giving
Rush of adrenalin.

The hovered, and danced,
Glided and waltzed,
Just out of reach!

Lying on the grass-
He looked up at that
Universe, the swirling
Mass of tangible emotion…

Sighed and shut his eyes;
Rolled over, on one side
And leaped to his feet
In one swift motion-
To net the first word
That he intercepted!

Only to be caught himself-
In a vision, ethereal
And mesmerizing;
Of swift brush strokes
Of colours that lived,
Of a canvas, shouting
In wild abandon-

And-
She painted.
He wrote.
Immersed. Enthralled.
Enchanted. Engrossed.

Till –
At the same instant
They recognized each other,
And smiled.

Replete.



Usha, 12 April, 2008