The alternate hypothesis

Illusions and realities
Two sides of a coin.
A pinch of luck by your side
Like all random events
Got you an illusion.
Presumptuous You
Termed it reality.
The other side
The alternate hypothesis
Equally probable
As tangible as your reality
Stays unconceived.
Imagination, hallucination. Whatever.
A figment of your inner wilderness
Because somehow, you seem to know
It was there... Almost.
A pair of twisted events
A.K.A destiny
That you could have lived
The alternate hypothesis.

The meek bee

A meek little bee
Set off zestfully
To explore the big wild world.

She loved the bright colours
But couldn't figure out black.
She relished the sweet
But cringed at the sour.
She made fancy friends
And stayed well away
from the wilderness.
But when she landed on a thorn
She was clouded with despair.

But one fine morning
She woke up brave.
And dared to see
what lay beyond the mist.

When she stretched her fragile wings
To test her strength
And embrace the fierce reality
She stumbled upon a sight purely surreal.
For wonderful was her world.

She could make peace with black
Learned to live through the sourness,
And fell in love with the wilderness.
For she realized that something that's
Bare
And raw
And wild
And intense
Just like her emotions
And love
Is purely beautiful.
Just like her soul.

And then,
She flew!
With the strength of a million mountains.

She loved.
Cried.
Stumbled upon a lot many thorns.
Got herself bruised.
But learned to make peace.

She flew.
She lived.

Someone like... everyone

Free as a bird
Wild like a tornado
Fierce as ice
Add to that the stance of a lioness.

Mirthful like yellow
And streaks of passionate red
Flirty as the effervescent Pink
But mature as Black.

But what no one can see
That which she keeps hidden
From the glare of the seemingly ruthless
And the irrevocably shallow
Is the mere fact
That she's plain. Simple.

The warmth in her to comfort the harshest foe
The Pink turning a shade of blue
The classy Black, blending her in
And patches of gray devouring the yellows.

Dual personality disorder - one may laugh off
But there's always more than what meets the eye.
The tip of an iceberg - hiding away the true magnificence
-Is that not how each one of us is? 

Leaves in autumn; rich.
Red, yellow and aging
Beauty personified
Fall.
Clusters of a million flaming reds
Lit like a pyre.
A pretty picture.
A sight to behold
And let it assault
Your senses
Until the snow
Carpets it all.
To create a new reality
Of a transition.
Absorbing the blazing hues
Into its magnificent white.
Cold.
Yet pretty.
One more sight
To behold
And let go.