Almost a billion pupils,
flickering like a faulty switch,
And collided with the vast vastness.
The doctor saw cotton,
large ,clean, unused cotton swabs,
strewn across an azure floor.
The student decided it was like the swirling sea was lit up,
from a curved orange point,
Like the hurricane lamp she used at night.
It sent dissipating ripples of lavender, navy, sea-green to far off places.
to study the earth as she studied her books.
The soldier, as he lay dying,
thought it seemed like varying degrees of an untreated bruise.
With a concentrated yellow pus,
draining away into the horizon.
The artist could barely trace the bleary outline,
on the sheer minimalist painting.
A calming mix of dreamy blues and milky whites.
And when the rain threatened,
it seemed an eternal child up above,
had been commissioned,
to color into the whites carefully,
an angry grey.
The villager was certain it was a death,
Perhaps, a personage of sorts,
A politician or a businessman.
For he was domiciled in smoke,
Properly enclosed by the formless ceiling,
surely sent by funereal embers.
If not here,
Photo by Donald Tong