Beyond the Chromatic Spectrum
Written: April 28, 2026
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To those who weigh the world in chromatic chains, I say:
I am not a color—
not a cast, not a cloak,
not a fleeting film of oak.
I am the quiet quiddity beneath,
the breath before breath,
the ember behind the eyes.
I am not an appearance.
I am an essence—
the amaranthine spark,
the zoetic whisper stark
woven through the body’s brief art.
In my heart
lie folds of forgotten fire,
hollows of hidden hymns,
vaults of velvet silence
where old sorrows soften
and new mercies rise.
In my heart
a city of longings glows—
no red lines,
no barred borders —
no gates to guard the beloved.
All beloved ones dwell there,
all beloved ones,
their names like amber incense,
their laughter a lissome litany
lifting through luminous streets.
In my heart
An olive grove whispers—
It's glittery silver leaves,
with seraphic screams
glued to laden drinking,
from wells of ancient fruits.
In my heart.
The green homeland is blooming —
a haven of eternal thrive
a world where every soul
is seed and soil,
pilgrim and place,
origin and return.
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