But they stop and go,
Not red or green or yellow.
No, no, they flow where colors never go.
Some darker stolen
Painted skies from haunted worlds
And go away and go away
How I wish they’d go away.
But the colors stay
And they have a weight
Because they’re not a shade;
They’re not a ghost, a specter or a sigh
Of wispy hues at all.
Move the colors, make then change,
From dark and deep and deeper gray.
Make the colors
Give me back the sky
Of golden rays and lighter blues,
But be careful there if when they lift
That reality I fear within
Doesn’t fling the shattered palette
And blind me to the outside day.
Photo by the author