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
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