Kaleidoscope

A simple toy mother gave me on my sixth birthday, the best gift I ever got. Its gentle turn creating changing color design, and shifting patterns, mesmerized me, filled my transfixed childhood vision. I can’t resist looking through it even today. The turning wheel of my time rotated the rhapsodic living scenario. The patterns performed persistently with languid life’s mélange of motifs. The chameleon colors transformed the visage of the mind’s topography into the ashes of burnt barrenness, or to the elegance of emerald valley. The diffused dreams on the drift, floated on the cascade of shifting sight, meandering on the mesmeric tapestry, weaved with the strands of ebullience, replicated the wings of butterflies, flittering on the ripples of rapturous air, and before they all flew away, formed for me a fountain of fulfillment. In my listless lonesome travel across the wanton wasteland, or along the glittering garden path, lined with spring saplings with buds of bursting colors, it opens the shutter of my mind. The receptive film of sensuality captures in the fascinating fresco the sublime snapshots of beauty. In the mist of my journey’s last mile, at the edge of the fading future, the sunset swansong resonates in the realm of the twilight time for the forlorn essence of being, silhouetted like defoliated tranquil tree against the blazing skyline of transient chromatic brilliance, witnessing the last flicker of the dying day. The shards of the splintered sky’s spectrum in the swirling squall of torment roll on the dismal waves of the curled up clouds of discontent. The remnant rays of sanguinity, flickering on the ebb of time with the departing flashes of the sinking sun, fabricate the latent lattice of the unframed dreams in the petrified life’s captivating collage of my childhood kaleidoscope.