In All The Colors Of Colors Lay Colors

A teardrop of dew softly lands on a growing grapevine. Under the sunlit sky, they will nurse until the time comes for them to harvest.  In another field golden bushels of wheat begin to take shape as they too are nursed from the light that blesses the soil they are born from. Stalks of corn reaching up so high they can almost touch the angel blue sky. Bright red juicy beefsteak tomatoes are ripening on their green aromatic vines climbing higher ever higher. All the colors disperse from the prisms of life brilliantly refracting back more colors still. All the colors are here inside the colors that illuminate our world.

The tender little yellow dandelion sits there so modestly yet so proudly. Adure the large sunflower who knows the sun like no other as that is its job. Wipe away the tears from your broken-hearted memories. Fade to brown from the pain of being forlorn and seemingly forgotten. Your quivering lush red lips await the arrival of my parched pale love-starved lips moving slowly but purposely towards you to seal each to the other. Take a step back backward then gingerly move one step forward falling into outstretched arms with lips longing for tenderness.   Observe in awe of the grace and beauty in the delicate movements of the ballerina on her tip-toes with arms poised above her head whose pink skirt swirls all around her.

Koma Kulshan a glacial mountain gleaming from the bright fresh fallen snow that now adorns its crown. Behold the spectacle of the geese in chevron flight. A downtrodden man with a torn and tattered khaki colored coat scowls at passersby with his cracked yellow teeth very much in evidence. Picture the bride resplendent in her long white wedding gown with a sheer white lace veil covering her broad beaming smile. A field of red, white and blue with stars and stripes comprising the flag of our nation so rich in tradition filed to the brim with pride.

In all the colors of colors lay colors that gap the differences in our lives. How in a lightning flash of a moment everything that changes has changed. The raw emotions of those left behind to reassemble themselves after the carnivores of war. The nervous anxiety of uncertainty percolates inside you popping at the glass-topped silver kettle allowing for a sneak preview of challenges past, present, and futures shuttered tight obscured by infidelity. Stay with me a little while longer as zero hours well before midnight changes the world forever.

The dawn of daybreak where the darkness is darker just before the light starts to grab a hold on the day. At the unceremonious hour of 8:46 am on a too perfect fall season feeling day in September a winged silver bird streaked across the sky exploding into the side of a metal mountain erupting into bright orange flames which licked the outside of what once stood an unarguably fiercely proud empire of steel providing sanctuary for the sacredness of the day for the toil and the trade in barter for the daily bread lusted for by the masses. The unyielding black smoke flooded outside from the gaping holes instantaneously created beginning the process to recall the black darkness eradicating the sight of the man in the moon. Heat rose to the extreme rendering Fahrenheit to nothing more than an insignificant measurement. Red chariots carrying men or martyrs of rescue raced through the streets with blinding flashing lights screeching sirens until they stopped. Species not empowered with the ability to fly lept unhesitatingly in a slivering hope of saving their lives instead landed crushed and compacted like a can fresh from the recycling machine.

At the equally unceremonious hour of 9:03 am on that same all too perfect September day weatherwise yet another winged silver bird whooshed by overhead until it too exploded into vicious uncontrollable unyielding orange flame as they sliced through the sides of once thought impenetrable shiny steel that also flaunted its fierce pride in the place it  had been put to stay forever. The cushy haven for the hustling masses clawing their way to the pots that held the elixir for life in them was now a raging inferno only a few would escape. The sickening smell of flame feasting on flesh became entrenched in the air. More beings that were unsustainable in flight jackhammered into the ground previously reserved for the relentless tramping of their feet wedged into finely fitted leather ornaments. A statue adorned in a green tunic in the not too far distance lowered her head despondently in sense of defeat. All at once the pillars of steel began to drool and ooze all over themselves. The rumbling sound of thunder grew louder and more intense as each second skipped by. And then in broad daylight, the night came on eclipsing any darkness that a total eclipse of the sun could muster. A stampede of black dust gobbled up everything in sight while dispersing shrapnel, propellant, ash, remnants of burnt flesh or skeletons with their heads on fire. All fires flickered on their flames in the daylight in a scene resembling a surrealistic nuclear night. Cover your eyes, cover your noses, breathe out but dare not breathe in as the air has become saturated with carcinogens or other toxins your body will not well tolerate. Run like he—from or to your life/ death sentence if you make that far before the blacker than black tunnels of smoke brings you into its embrace from which there is no escape nor turning away.

The plumpish little red-haired boy with pinkish puffy cheeks gleefully cast his makeshift fishing rod constructed with a stick and white cotton string into the crystal clear free-flowing brook with no real desire to catching a fish. He is perched there contently smiling in his faded denim overalls with a striped short-sleeved polo shit underneath whistling out on a tune while ingesting his bologna on white bread sandwich. The purplish-red kool-aid he was drinking snuck out from each corner of his mouth leaving its signature on his clothing. It did not seem to really matter much. In all colors of colors lay colors.

A grey (gray) wolf howls in the pale moonlight waiting for an answer. From the backside of the moon, the answer to never silently comes. From the carnival on the street corner, there is a potpourri of color from the whirling twirling rides tried on for size by kids of all ages, shapes, and sizes. Can we all join in a refrain from a song that is sung louder than a bullet can kill? No man can cast a looming shadow if he is not a man at all. Choose your choices of colors to paint a portrait of existence in a moment. It is after all the red blood that runs through our veins. Too much or too little of the white inside the red forecasts our fortunes. Are you red ripe with anger or red-faced from being humbled by humility? In all the colors of colors lay colors.