Cerise, it flows from the hallowed sun, chiseled out of the spuming beryl drapery, born out of the angel’s last crescent touch.
Awashed, in ruby auras; a glint of lush luxurious amber, flecked with lavender streamers, the vault screams colours.
A joyous serenade of prismatic notes upon the welkin’s lyre, in earnest beckoning.
My heart waltzes to the rhythm of infinite dreams. Up, it floats in the guise of winged shimmers, to taste the bliss of colours.