Living in Color

My view and Hue entice a question, study, and suggestion.

Through Resurrection, I see the spectrum that is

me.

Blinded by sophistries I honor my soul's plea.

Bewildered by the vibrancy of the green green pumping machine,

I open its engine to fix its parts

but what I found was my heart.

I denied the gold only to meet my soul,

wandering under the scorching sun with feet on red clay.

Their wisdom survived another day.

I am truly whole.

Thirsty I am for the knowledge of frequency

They said the colors are inside of me.

The gates are seven and twelve is a key.

Know thyself and be free.

To escape fear, “being” is the spear.

Piercing through the veil

My vision appears in high definition.

I found truth in superstition.

To paint with colors of the wind

I had to realize there is no end

A constant same free from blame.

Lower the thirst for fame

There is no game.

I am a form of art - as fluid as the sea.

They dissect me because their minds are too restless to

be.

Deprived of authenticity, upholding colorless fallacy,

Never being able to experience the fullness of me.

Once a slave to pastoral and societal consistency

coupled with self-rigidity fearing my life duplicity.

I returned to the night from which comes my subconscious might

And let my heart take flight.

What a transformational sight.

I wash my feet in the basin of clarity

Realizing I have always been free to be.

It is through projections I detest my complexity

For it is simple really:

I AM You,

You are Me,

And “I” is We.