The Colors of Nothing

In our universe so vast, life and death is an interpretation. In our life, we hold dear sadness, and joy is an imagination. Our life is full of colors, or so we assume, But there are no colours — just the product of our brains. Reality is beyond what we imagine. What we see around is just an illusion. Nothing is ours, but we paint some as immigrants. Ego clouds our minds; we live in artificial possessions. We feel the loss of lives when a plane crashes, But ignore the plight of children who die every day of hunger. We drink for pleasure; the poor drink out of misery, The ones who die are sad, while the ones who survive are sad to live the next day. And yet we keep moving in our blind beliefs, We keep chasing dreams, trying to keep away from grief. The day we see reality, we ask, “Why only me?” We live in a small world, and fail to see the larger picture. By Suresh Iyer While we live inside our small bubbles, we ignore looking beyond to see the larger picture, for it would shatter our ego and cause us pain.