The Journeymen

For eternity I wept for those blinding themselves to magic within ,
Tweaking , shouting at rooftops , trying to penetrate ,
Even colouring mine with grayscale pastels in hope of recognition .
For the voice always said that in them lay the world ,
And the supreme resided in the word .
Yet how could I forget that in the cosmos lay beings like me ,
Ones who penetrated through biases .
Form , content , position or accoladed numbers ,
What always mattered was the uncoloured rendition of the soul .
The true voice always resided in their words ,
For magic had filled them with mother creation’s absolute color scale .
The voice that said that thou shall be mine ,
Was merely the one preying on the truth .
The voice of magic in you my fellow journeymen I have found ,
It’s beyond an honour to walk with you ,
I’d be completely lost without all of you around .
– © Kshitij Bader

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