Rubik's Cube Scene

A single chair sits in the middle of a dimly lit room;

Its occupant traverses blindingly to find it.

If all the colors of the spectrum could at once again bloom

Then maybe that poor traveller would never mind to--

To arrive.

To wonder.

To sigh.

To sit.

Soon there will be nothing left to ponder

Except the thrives of whispers filled with

Transient particles transcribed by the trespassers of night.

All that's left for that seat?

A single beam of spotlight.

Flared red, flared blue and then flared green.

Flared orange. Then yellow.

Flared white in between.

All of varying degrees.

So sets the rubik's cube scene.

And I am its traveller left presently wandering.

Not yet able to adorn its stage.