The Dance of Wild Colours

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Open your heart like land at dawn,

where peacocks dance in the morning hush,

their feathers spilling secrets of rain and fire,

shimmering beneath your ribs-

blues, greens, silent flames,

pressing up against the quiet dark.


Walk the village path, love,

past moss-clad wells and dust-laden air,

where memories cling like old song,

and in the shrill of the peacock’s call-

listen-

hope rises like the sun,

bold, unapologetic, wild.


They strut because they must,

their colors a defiant song,

a storm that refuses to be tamed,

a dance that teaches us to hope

before words can hold it.


Love yourself like that-

a creature uninvited, unbothered,

letting the world gawk,

while your true colors spill and shine,

steadfast in the quiet certainty of being.


Let your heart be earth-

holding storms,

withstanding winds,

rooted in the ancient rhythm

that crackles like lightning in the summer sky.


You are brilliant-

even as the land dries and the old world shifts,

your storm-callings, your storms,

your song, your dance-

are the light that refuses to dim.


Love yourself stubborn,

true, long after the world watches no more,

because in that wild, wing-spread courage,

you find your blessing-

you find your way home.

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