Odysseus' Blue

Odysseus' wine-dark sea

Was likely blue, to you or me;

There was no word, described the hue,

The robin's egg, the sea's green-blue.

The sky was bronze, the epics tell,

For those who did in legends dwell -

No word for blue to paint their salt,

Wine-dark it was, no poet's fault.

And we are told, these tripping words,

Did do more than un-blue the birds,

But with no word for blue to paint,

It put their eyes into restraint;

Until we can with words describe,

Those colours seen we must proscribe.

And now, in days long after that,

Our words abound, to chitter-chat,

And with the words our knowing firms

Who we might be, now we've the terms.

We find ourselves in language found,

And let identity abound;

No oddities upon the shelf,

We found our words, and so ourself.

A world in which we can exist;

Like-minded souls to meet, persist -

To find in words community,

An entity, identity.

Whatever band the rainbow's hue,

You find yourself, reflects in you.

Odysseus' wine-dark sea -

Was always blue to you and me;

Increase the telling of the true,

When you perceive a word for blue.