Colour
— poem
My world was a speck,
a pinprick in the void,
where I existed, oblivious,
to any vibrancy beyond the flat.
On my speck,
the palette was a monotone beige,
a dull canvas of unchanging sameness.
I knew no other hue,
never suspected I was ensnared in ignorance.
Clad in blinders of my own design,
painted to mimic reality’s edges,
I lived, unquestioning,
until you arrived.
You drifted in on a breeze of brilliance,
and with a gentle force,
ripped away the drab veil I wore —
a mockery of silk.
The universe unveiled itself,
shimmering and vast.
Now, amidst the tremors of revelation,
I grapple with the enormity of this newfound space.
How many veils have I yet to shed?
How many more shadows do I mistake for substance?
Veils painted to resemble life’s splendour,
when they are but illusions.
I refuse to remain in the dark.
Numb and blind.
Let me dwell in the realm of vivid truth,
where light bursts forth in radiant brilliance,
and tears of colour cascade down,
a testament to a world reborn.
