MESSAGE FROM AZURE

Beloved are my greetings,

As a soft-spoken, mid-level awareness of The Spectral Dimension,

infinite in aspects, my essence blue. A clever being of rainbow light.

Yet I am bewildered, as to where to begin.

I feel... I sense my awkwardness, please understand me,

written, and verbal communication remains secondary

to my preferred method of expressing self.

Emotional Colour Language coils my spirit.

*As a representative of the entire spectrum, I acknowledge the innate value, worth, and uniqueness of all colours. A rainbow is pure magnificence. My inner shades being more reflective and introspective are somewhat of a paradox of feelings - a balanced combination of joy and sadness. That is my reality.

I will start at the beginning -

What is the colour of your soul?

Show me the nature of your resplendence.

My ego is in training, to see your divinity.

Being Azure, my soul-essence is transparent icy blue.

A reflective blue of water~sky.

Like a pale cloud, coasting across his ceruleum lover.

French ultramarine, cobalt, and sapphire; high above me, bellow my praise.

Encompassed by midnight, I shine as a star.

Imagine the voice, scent, flavor, feelings - the touch of your favorite colour.

Can one describe it instantly, or mellowy, If that is who you are.

Are you a combination of two, two opposites, may I ask?

How, and why, and when do you radiate?

Could I immerse haze around your coral sun?

Could I float above his salty, seafoam crest?

Could my vaporous nature spread the lavender from your lilacs?

I am cherished, sometimes receptive, sometimes expansive.

I think exquisite - always sly and crafty.

I like being calm.

A still running stream,

hesitant with brackish water,

flowing from my estuary.

Kidding aside ~

My earliest memory of color came as a toddler, sitting in a pool of crayons.

I tell my mom, "This is my favorite color." I ask, "What is it called?"

"Cornflower Blue" I look, I see; B~ L~ U~ E, “Blue,” I say.

I scribble with it inside my mom's red Moleskine notebook.

"It's see-through and so pretty; what is your favorite color?"

“May I see yours?”

She takes it from my right hand.

She holds the crayon between her long fingers and looks.

She picks out the melon Crayola.

She places the two crayons side by side,

“These are my two favorite colors.”

I’m in awe of her combination;

I feel love.

- Michael Andrew Shyka