Orange

When I was traveling through a wood I met the color Orange Laid out before me, long lost kin Less on top, more so within She was the edges and the movement She was the still frames and the fire inside She was large, looming death; and the minuscule flit of life She was the shadow in the afternoon sun - Elongated, exaggerated, full of shape and being Orange... Orange is the next octave of vision TheStillSepiaOfPastAndTheKaleidoscopeOfPossibleFuturesAllOozingAtOnceFromThePoresOfThisPresentMoment! All that glitters is orange Through leaves, dappled, she flows Down to the rippling water, she knows How blinding she is to the eye A thousand dancing mysteries with no reason why Orange is the world inside out Where the blue sky burns and silence is a deafening shout Orange... In her dominion and her gentle preservation Is the double sided mirror through which all my reservations Are left empty Without merit Without cause All the monstrousness we've made comes to a slow and gentle pause Orange is the oxidation of my life to come Showing all that could be done Or lost Or imagined Or destroyed and risen high up from the ashes