The Humming..

A rainbow at the horizon, Wears the strands of hues in attention, Not an inch of spatial difference, Compacted in the disciplined effervescence, The union of tangibly intangibles, Hard to scoop and store in the vaults, The rainbow in the horizon, Speaks the dialect the mind can translate, Into the perfumed flowers of fluttering feelings, The notorious nuisance of what we hear, And get affected, vacate through the rear, Threshold, where the clouds can’t erase, Thousands of rainbows born to reborn again, When the proud selfish shine is broken, The breezy colorful bits of a satin ribbon, Get humbled to be the straight light again, To continue the light years of journey, In the open space with and without warning traffic lights, Hard to comprehend the traveling is in the spirit.