Think about this:
Everything you hear is color, whether
black or white, or anything in-between, it is all color
What is color?
Listen
The wind
blows specks of brown, noisily pelting sides of steel
ping, ping, ping, the air floats
against grays
of dust motes
Lingering, sounds of gritty rocks
lodged within shoe treads, etching sidewalks a chalky white. It’s music, hot as a red poker, shooting
arrows of vibration over dirt covered streets, straight to the underground, nerves
of steel shattered; straight to the drums of ears, straight to the heart, a hot
red noise.
Sounds of blues and greens; cooling the
undercurrent, ripples splash over a moss-green
log, rolling, sideswiping boulders; get out of the way!
Leaves, translucent, supple green, soft
spoken as a kitten’s purr; yellow as the afternoon sun; orange and reds muted
brown, rustle, falling across the ground, a crunch you hear, steps into this
litter of leaves
Clouds merge, a rainbow shot with electric
current; dance a movement, a rumble, to a clap of hands, a stroke of luck; a
nuance of what’s to come.
A heart beats, visualizing a deep shade,
blood, a red buried on Valentines Day, a beating a thumping, its pulse to show
the travels of love for each.
Falling to the ground, yellow returns;
heat melts the white of a snowflake, what color lays in a puddle, as yellow
burns away the skin and heats a room
A room
The room
A white room
No windows,
no doors, no floors
White’s voices are hollow
No voice
No one is there
Not even your own voice
Just the silent in and out breathing
catches your mind….
Until white speaks
A voice that may never open the door,
never fill a room with color
Never recognized; a sweeping landscape
of space and time
Again and again, the sun mounts its orb
against silence
Reflections of color lighting the
window’s bevel
Hitting snow capped hillsides, melting
back the day
Shadows begin the awaited internal brow
of sunset
Catching your breath, setting the night
A Cymbal’s clash strikes away elusive
color
Black, the color of bold, you hold in
your arms
A hint of blue motioning quiet
No one can hear you but you
Enter silence, swept with the wind of
glistening crystals
Don’t melt away, don’t melt away
Embrace the sounds of night, pleading
to stay
The gray, holding court to mount the
valiant effort
The monochromatic, invading hues
Blaring sounds of color becomes illusion
Is this true?
Can you not stay?
Time
to be alone, you say?
I’m
home, I’m home, she cried
Silence answered her call
But
I’m home, she sighed
No answer, just silence is all
Silence pulled her
Silence pushed her
Silence waited for her
Alone, to be alone
Where silence is silence
And no one is home
Silence huddled around
harsh and round
fragmented and torn
well of resentment warn
decayed and concentric
down to molding fabric
Swells on a
breeze
Gone, gone,
gone
Gone are the
words
Gone are the
thoughts
Gone into
night
The space I
created is gone hot white
Guilt, the tormentor burns and scars,
scabs break and bleed, rendered useless from silence and grief
cascades the rivers to cool the wound
Yet only to yield to pathetic filaments
born unto the air
born out of fear
Gone are the
words that busy the day
That saves
the day
That makes
the day
Gone are the
words that wash a well of hurt away
Gone is that
day
And white,
the color of Silence, does stay
