Persephone’s Rainbow

I’m all the hues of gray,

I am white and I am black.

I am the variants of color,

All they are and they all lack.

My diffidence is amber,

That light still filters through,

Diffused across the paper in the words that I construe.

My dedication is yet scarlet,

It burns in fiery zeal,

This flame that never wavers, this soldier that shall never kneel.

For I am a violet writer,

With all my purple prose,

And lavender and lilac tint the stories I compose.

My passions emit sapphire,

Fathomless and vast,

A wide and endless sea, an abyss whose depth is unsurpassed.

In verdant hues I wonder,

As I wander through my mind,

Like nature’s brilliant handiwork in which I seek but do not find.

You see, I am not just one color,

Many facets I refract,

Like sunlight through a diamond, I am thoroughly abstract.

Yet neither am I color,

I am no color at all.

Invisible, transparent, insignificant and small.

All in one, I am many,

I am none yet I’m replete.

I am Persephone’s own rainbow, death and life and self-complete.