Threads never know their colors

 

கயிற்றுக்குத்தெரியுமா தன் வர்ணம்?

Do threads understand their religious bindings?

Regardless of the 'colors', every kite is moored to a thread, the same thread that holds all the kites through so many hands that are moored to the same hand.

The thread that binds, is the thread that cuts.

Thread less kites falling on hate filled skies blown by never ending winds may land some day in the lap whose hand holds all the hands. Together.

Hands waving fingers

Balls of fists

Violent embrace

Liquid rage

Burnt ash

So much wrath

Yet no faith

Doesn't make sense

The hand that rocks the cradle, the hand that raises in anger, the hand that ends it all by blood, colors all threads red. 

Threads never know their 'colors'.

(Inspired by Chiharu Shiota's incredible installations which are part of her 'Where are we going?' and 'Uncertain Journey' exhibitions)