What is really white and black?
Don't you think grey has more stories to be told, more emotions attached and more grains to count?
I feel even the wings of an angel is grey; for each flight it attempted to shelter some black, for it beared all the stains from white, for it aged with some bitter sweet truth and lies, for all the granted mercies and ungrateful sighs.
I feel all the colours are grey underneath, all blessings are vulnerable to expire, any curse could be dismissed with kind diplomacy to compensate the despair.
What is really black and white?
Is commotion black in colour and death always white?
Is it really so simple to decide?
Can we put our finger to one person, thought, idea or conflict and say it's purely white or spotlessly black?
If not, then why this blasphemy? Whose values are nudged to add this potion of validation?
Who is actually defining- what is black and white?