Why is it colors know
The things that I can’t say?
How did I come to feel
So lost in yesterday?

The color’s in my head and hands,
The anger’s in my blood and bone,
The voices do not bother me,
For I am one, alone —

The inspiration of the eye,
The resurrection of the mind,
The colors of our diffidence,
The future, left behind —

Where is it colors lead?
Those siblings, Joy and Grief,
Have come to take me far
Into my own belief —

Why is it colors point
Beyond what I can see?
And why do I begin to know
The faith you have
In me?

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One thought to “Colors”

  1. ah shoot; please play some more of your piano improvisations for us and go ahead and paint too. You are an artist at heart not an actuary. You’re just bright enough to do both so why not enjoy both?
    Totally irrelevant, except not-
    There is a hummingbird wagging his little white tipped tail as he hovers to feed in the fushia below my window. You would enjoy the colors and patterns.
    Your internet friend,

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