Pigments

if you were to craft the perfect person

from all the shades of the rainbow,

and even beyond its arches of seven,

what kind of being would you create?

if you were to sculpt the him or her from clay,

mold each finger and each eyelid anew,

no thought to the final shape or its progress,

what would the end result appear to be?

if you were to fashion each leg and foot,

tidy up the shape of the cheeks and the lips,

and make a creature all unique and fine,

what would you see before you then?

would you see a sturdy being much like you,

or would you see someone towered below you,

or even someone eclipsed by your motives?

would you witness the birth of a rival-to-be,

or would you see a lover of days to come,

or perhaps someone just like a second you?

the colors don't matter, the angles all intermixed,

the flesh and the golds and the browns and the sands—

your creation would be a pigment of another kind,

a shade from another mother and father in waiting,

a spectrum all its own as if born in another universe.

the rainbows dictate what we see by light of day,

but you will make what you know and what you believe.

You can find more poetry and stories of all kinds right over this way.