The Hues of Night

The Hues of Night by Ruvini De Alwis

If I was not blue

I would never have

known, night

could be pierced

with so many lights,

bright and ephemeral

or that the universe

shows its pastel hues

in stellar streams,

a palette aligned

to the yearning of

the soul, presenting

a fantastic array of

possibilities, colourful

interjections leaving

the mundane behind.

I want to leave this

place behind....

This place that is grey

where the outlook

is grey and prospects

grey as if matter had died

in desolation, tainted

by the colour of lies

which is the darkest

blue of all.

Where a glimmer of

tomorrow is shaded by

a midday sun, that is

not quite golden but

badly bleached like

yesterday’s tired

clothes, not white

but off white,

a quintessential stain.

Gazing upwards,

I understand why

men would wish to

touch that sublime

profusion with the

immensity of the

heart, while drowning

in the darkness of

buried deeds,

lying strewn are

trampled weeds,

hidden amongst rose

coloured blooms,

which continue

to speak of better

things to come.

I want nothing

but the green grass

beneath my feet

and to watch the

red-gold of sunsets

to remind me

why I am here.

Why to live this

way is vital to

understanding the

stellar streams

that whisper of

better things to

come. The pastel

hues of dying stars,

reds and blues of

unmade worlds,

molten or ice.

I look up, starlight

is the true colour

of night and it is

no longer black

when the head

is raised upwards

and the heart reaches

outwards.

I dive into stellar streams

immersed in light,

the purest kind.

Not white but

enigmatic, bright...

Night opens

doorways to the

heavens and it is

this blackness

that sparks the

imagination, an

unbridled circulation

of interplanetary light,

revealing the true

colour of night.