My Solemn Individual

In my solemn colors I hold identity.

Being different than the things that are, or are perceived to be,

creates tension,

like the incessant tick-tocking of time,

screeching tightening of a knot,

paint thrown at an empty canvas,

I become the slippery blue confronting the golden shore...

Change only comes through pain

...human history only changes through the running of ancient horses-

black under, white above, red intermittent, paleness encompassing-

the cost of expanding consciousness takes its toll.

Fires on my prairie eventually allow field flowers to grow. This is why light is only fully valued

in darkness.

Dead skin flakes, flows within a vapid openness until sunlight exposes it-

sliver dust sparkles floating in space, becoming as prevalent as a grey-blank gaseousness holding it in place.

Light tells us the tale of time.

Darkness defines it