Not blue, not purple.
I balance on the razor’s edge, indigo through and through.
The miracle of me, forgotten,
weighed down by expectations of the day to day,
until something soft as a whisper–
how the light filters through leaves to dance across
my bedroom walls or the way the wind plays with my hair,
a soft caress from the universe—
reminds me of just how often
I underestimate myself.
I am not this powerless
ball of depression and anxiety,
this ocean of unending blue.
I am stardust walking.
Shifting towards ultraviolet,
Electric with possibility.
And while I bloom in stillness
here’s a gentle reminder:
We are all indigo.
About the Creator
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