Purple HUE-MAN

Let there be light!

And there was white!

Human, spread through life:

the prism splitting such being in

behavioural spectra, even by diverse

pigmental differentiations of Earth’s tones:

tones of disparity, sectioning humanity

into a race where self-believers

proclaim, their God is

supreme.

Futile contest where a

father’s son is the man’s father!

Black begets white where black is buried.

Lo! Behold peach, cream, and umber

—the down-to-earth

colour.

Umber pater and mater beat blue

and red gametes darkling void of mater’s

procreating palette to make a purple

zygote—pure pigment conceived

to paint a hue-man—me.

I am a being of bluish-red pedigree: the

cool, warm wind dealing care

with mild passion.

Beyond a giver,

I am the gift—here, present.

And far from a lover, I am, indeed, love!

I am a creator!

The artist

who mixes mysteries

and clads naked canvases with

divers diverse strokes to awe mere men

and enlighten darkened minds.

The writer

who scrambles letters

together and tweaks words, then

string them to form lifelines plied to leash

found lost souls back to lead

remarkable lives.

The speaker

who weaves knowledge

with wisdom yarn and fish for flummoxed

humans to put them in pools of positive

purposes, then inspire affluence in

the ambience of

peace.

I am purple!

The royal servant,

ruling with nobility in a

serving capacity to restore

humanity’s misplaced dignity.

Alas, Ewuare, Ezana, Amenhotep III,

Keita I, Oduduwa and others

who had come, go!

O, purple pièce de résistance on an ephemeral

sojourn gracing gallery walls ’round the

world, ’waiting when light’s dearth

tends toward a black hole—death,

where white blacks and

life dies!