True colours of present and deceit of past

The time of flight of all those colours,

is the time that makes my sensations fuller.

Than that of what kept the colours away

And made me wander in search for ray;

Are no more in life to keep me bewildered

Gladly time has brought despair, swindled.

For he who transmuted life to gloom

Shall be resentful in life of fume;

As he was the harbinger of distrust,

Encased in nothing but obscenity of lust.

But in whose arms now repeatedly I sleep,

Is PURE at heart, bears no deceit.

Added up to life’s meaningful purrs,

Is the flight of all his true colours !