Red reveals my rage, with orange flecks of pain.
The bleeding of a broken heart,
the rust of longing long forgot; it brushes off but lingers after all else fades.
The anger that boils in my veins,
the glow of wasted sunset days, wrought with regret, and tinged with embers all but run their course.
Yellow shines my light, that fills a space beyond the trees.
The flash of life that whispers dreams you haven’t dared to think,
it teases through a vale of green, and arms outstretched above you hold this place in time.
The tangled maze of root and branch, both prison and escape, ancient but anew,
it paves a path to brighter days and lighter moments just beyond our reach.
Blue is the boil of ocean waves, who turn on me without pretense or care.
The ripples that reach out, concussions of action done or waiting yet to be,
the calm before the storm, a lull when you’re alone, in the space where the world greets the sky.
A tear of joy or sadness, cares not the motive of that telling drop,
the time to feel blue, ever changing tides, an abyss to rival my deepest well.
The burn of life I have not lived,
The searing pain of memory.
The storms that feed the push and pull,
The crashing wave of love and light.
The riot rising in my soul,
The flood of senses keeling to an ever-changing tide.