Inscrutable Mystery

Written on

I had a bucket of paint with a rag
 And I thought I could squeeze it
Little by little
 Until the colours that remained
Were the colours of you.
 But your dynamic lustre's
 Like a dazzling magnesium ribbon
 Or a streak of dancing lightning,
 And I can't discern—
 I can't peg any colours on you.
 You're a moving picture,
 An inscrutable mystery—
 My fingers are aching to figure you out.


Photo by David Waschbüsch from Pexels

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