coruscating the LIFE

The paper was empty, Until I've dawdled over it, Until I've written something on it. The paper was lifeless, Until I've poured my soul into it, Until I had to add blacks over the sheet. The paper is holding all the pain and joy in it, Buried into its soul, deeper and deeper inside. Only shown when flipped through the pages, When filling the essence of your spirit through it. They're not just etched to be read by someone whom we wanted to, they're engraved just to make the blank paper beautiful and teary by the magic of words mended into it. They're just impelled to relive the moments where you wanted the time frozen, Relive the instants from which you've to realize and learn to live in with the paper which you're holding now. This is so the life, Like a blank paper waiting to be filled with the lilac tints blending itself into grey by you, not by others. Lingering deep into the second like the ink into the paper, and let the blues out for you, not for others. Add the peachy blues to the endeavouring blacks, the gloomy whites to the refreshing teals. Because, anything can be abandoned if it isn't without any scar on it.