I saw you draped in your own youth steeped in every colour that the society around you offered. You had embraced it with all your will. You had absorbed it and you were absorbed into it. Was it a surprise then that I didn’t recognise you?
Last time I saw you, you were as flower that was yet to gain its entire colour; whose odour was yet to realize it full strength. You were beautiful for your incompleteness. You were discovering what you didn’t know about. You didn’t seem to be guarding anything then. You didn’t know who or what you were. You were beautiful.
Now I see you have discovered yourself fully. At least that’s what you seem to believe. It is people as you who make me wonder should one ever discover one self. Should one ever grow to completion?’