To see, in color

Oh!

the colors, how they call me

in service to the night, subject to

the tides of

full moons, the whispering moon,

my mind awakens, a spirit of fever

too chaotic to sleep,

tempted by the bounty

of creation

the desire to unfold—

unfold the secrets imbued in all objects, in all things

blessed is the night, the moon

which sings to me, calling

for my return

my shoulders bare, without wings

left to the breath of color

to carry me instead

to howl at the stars,

for the moon is already calling

A call to create, my restless fingers

my wavering hands

clay to palm or pen in hand

a language of euphoria

to see the beauty, in all things

a sudden shift to my sleeping eyes

wild heart and feral mind,

in kinship with sight

color breathes everywhere

I pray to them, these colors, to

convey the myths

of the beauty of all things

And in answer, I, with a new held adoration for all things

my body is called to study life’s majesty

of all their colors,

their inherent beauty

the play of shadows and light

Experience their shifting joy!

as they dance upon all things

feelings otherwise lost to me

when I feel of stone, without the colors to call

to see in color,

the colors never understood before

never seen for their truth,

disguised in the armor of normality

of things passing,

mistaken for familiar

in tune with the light that breathes deeply, calling, me

me to appreciate all things

color, the eyes reflection of sensation

only truly seen when my own sensations heighten

in waking dreams, colors electric,

mildest

beauties, turn

golden,

burning as bright as the sight of stars

and divine, in me, the majesty

of all living things

to see

this color

is to perceive the world, an unending beauty

and I am told by their mouths of the magic in simple forms

and I am held in awe as if

never having seen these things at all

in waking dreams there is my mania

an understanding of life’s beauty

in kinship to the moon, which calls me to rise

provoked

to create

only by the sight of things

the ideas they inspire

the sweetness of air

the breath of life’s secrets

the taste, of all things good

the crook of a tree

the nape of a neck

the intimacies of all things

blushing colors,

and all things, each

with everlasting beauty

the whims, of my mind and all things fancied

the things discovered

the language of mania

my face constantly flushed with

new

energy

turning once from stone, then to skin

and eventually to the all-seeing moon

and then from moon to saint,

where a newfound

grace

is known,

within me

the grace of the beauty of all things,

their color,

their purpose

And my purpose to share it

to preach the sermon of life’s colors so electric

Suddenly violent color, too bright to see

and blinded, I cry!

and try to return to life before, my waking dreams now leaving

the moon no longer

calling to me,

my sleep now met with dreams

but I haven’t lost the color, you see,

I had it in hand, pressed

to palm, my secrets

kept

the beauty of life forever known to me

wholly celebrated by the cycles

of my mind