The Nostalgia (prequel to 'Vintage')

I don't know if you've ever stepped back
Instead of striding purposefully forward
And stood, in a shadow
Of Insignificances
Before a black or white road.

But if you have,
You would know
Nothing on the canvas is as
Brilliant as the stationary dot
That you wouldn't have seen
Had you not known.

And the perspective omniscience grsnts you
Is more purposeful that the purposeful people

Before you.

*
Before you fell for me
You said you fell for
What you saw of me
In that
Painting of mine:

You could almost discern my figure, you said
Leaning over
Making the watery clouds
Evaporate with a smile.

I denied it
Because a smile
Was not the picture in my head
When I put my first coat of water
On the canvas.

And because the waether forecast
My professor made
Was 'melancholic',
I decided to dance along to it.

But you said
'Melancholic' has some
Sense of transparent
Nostalgia to it
And though you had never
Seen me before
You knew 'Nostalgia'
Was the 'Open Sesame'
To my soul.

*

Names are secrets
That are fashioned out of
The deepest abysses of your mind.
When you give a name
You make a transient thought
Settle permanently into
The recesses of an impermanent sky.

Think of a name as a star
That your soul found
Without any intention of
Star gazing.

Think of a name like Nostalgia
Which you attach to things
Long after they stopped remaining.

*

I named you nothing.

Because nothing moved me in that moment.
I thought of nothing whenever I would paint.
And when they asked me where my inspiration lay,
I said, "Nothing."

*

Some colours stand out
More vividly that others.
Some colours last longer
Than a few forevers.
It's a matter of perspective, they say
But I know all perspective requires
Is a bit of love and blood.

So when I made my soul
With colours that refused to be sold
I knew it was predestined
Because the only thing
Worth your soul and blood,
Is Nothing.

*

When you fell for me
You fell for melancholy
But melancholy is a
Name
Half- part bitter
And half-part sweet.
And when my professor declared it
"Melancholic:
I drew only one half,
But you fell for the half
That did not exist.

I don't know if you've ever stepped back
Instead of striding purposefully forward
And stood in a shadow
Of insignificances
Before a black or white road.

But if you have
You would have known
Sometimes it's a part
And not the whole
That is beautiful in a soul;
And if only, you had known.

And the perspective retrospection grants you
Is more nostalgic that The Nostalgia
You thought I drew.

(Here is the sequel, 'Vintage' : http://betweentheparenthesis.blogspot.in/2015/04/vintage.html )