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Brown
June 25, 2010 at 1:11pm

This is brown…umbre,
It is shadow and that which you think you see there, 
It is a mixture of all colors, and as such, it includes and underlies everything,
It is ancient, born of inertia and speaks of coming to rest in quiet stillness,
Of an accumulation of things expended and discarded,
Of missing or forgetting, decaying and dying,
Of brittle leaves that rattle and shake in the wind on frigid nights,
And crumble underfoot on a familiar path,
On which we all travel, where all return to feed new growth,
Of digging ditches in hard clay, of ground in dirt and sweat stained hard labor in bronzing heat,
Of beasts and men repeatedly plowing the soil, unearthing the scent of things buried and of longing,
Of crusted rust on steel or dried scabrous blood that covers a wound as it heals,
It is solid and heavy, in the smell, taste and density of iron,
It is in the weight and feel of old books, hardwood, an immoveable stone and authority,
And the thick aroma of smoked animal hides,
Of dark tannins and impenetrable murky water, 
It is an elusive space concealed by the thin surface of a momentary present,
It is the unseen and the unknown and spurs a hunger to know, it spurs all desire,
It is searching to be and yet remains neutral, here and not, forever watching, always waiting,
It is the color of awareness and a knowing sadness,
It is the weight of all life in the burden of gravity that holds us to the earth,
It is the cry of and the earth itself,
As we so deeply want to fly,
It is what prevails after all else is considered.

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