These colours,
how they change so fleetingly,
with me for but moments,
changing with the slightest word, image, sound.
They scarcely pass through me,
comfort me, confuse me, change me.
It truly is an abstract art.
And I’ve always wondered,
with such violent changing colour,
why we always search for greens and pinks?
What’s wrong with peaceful purple and mellow yellows,
from time to time?
The world is not always black and white,
red and blue
Sometimes someone scribes in gold,
those are sights to see, memories to cherish.
But perhaps society makes the world
such dismal, basic colours.
To think that someone paints the musical scores of life,
it evokes such rich feeling,
crimson and pearls, grays and blacks.
Perhaps that’s what society wants,
scribed on our staffs,
such fearful thoughts, causing simple conformities.
But perhaps society is but a whim
of a panicked mind, reverting to simplicity.
Then again,
perhaps in time we all must feel
in black and white, red and blue.
Perhaps the body slowly looses sense
to feel such other shades.
Perhaps it is but fate.
So I must see this abstract art,
these violent, vibrant colours,
these fleeting, floating feelings
as something to take in.
While the mind struggles
to make sense to feeling so much at once.
Enjoy living life in such vividness.
And live.
For to feel,
is to feel alive.
And only then does the colour gold show.
The colour of hope.
The artist of emotions.