Set her free for she is bound to fall in love. Hear her heart not her voice, because it’s loud, clear, wild and free. See her fly like a bird and don’t hold her tight. Let her twist like a snake and fall in love all over again. Hear her sentiments and make love to them. Fill every movement with joy and laughter and let her pour like the rain on your tips. Memorize it, drink it and flow with it, because she’s wild and free. Bow down and ask for her to let your love dominate her movements; then hold her tight for she won’t go now. Let her fall from your hands as if she was sand and make patterns in the air as she settles on the ground. 

From where I can see things today, things and people are not what they seem like. Every action has a reason, a story and a grudge behind it. Life would have been easy if things were painted in black and white, sadly it’s covered in grey. A complete mixture of two opposite colors; thus this leaves us to the conclusion that nothing can be labelled. If nothing is as dominating as black or white then how can we be sure about love or hatred? Who labelled people as ‘good’ or ‘bad’? Who invented the word ‘perfect’, when nothing is as clear as black or white? Nothing is complete then I guess; nothing can be as strong as black or white. Then why cry or bleed? Why expect complete answers when you know nothing is as clear as black or white? I term them as illusion/imaginary colors. The day we all realize that these colors don’t exist; life would probably be less complicated. I've started seeing the color ‘grey’ as the only happy resort.