That is All

A name in vain,

What can one say about colour?

It’s black and white.

It’s orange, purple, and brown.

There’s a little of blue,

a lot of yellow,

red is in there too,

Or is red out there?

And there’s a lot of blue

and not enough yellow.

It’s not orange

nor purple or brown,

Black nor white is a colour

bar a shade instead.

Colour,

colour,

colour.

That is all I see.

Sometimes it’s too much

causes a headache from all the noise.

Sometimes it’s too much,

and the not-quite paint

never leaves your body

or your mind.

When it’s silent,

still.

Colours a mere moment,

of peace,

of calmer weather.

Colour,

colour,

colour.

That is all I feel.

Seen in a child’s smile.

A dog’s bark.

The wind rushing through concrete jungles,

And jungle cities.

Sun on the pages of a book

or the light of the phone screen.

The beamers on an empty highway

in your eye.

Colour,

colour,

colour.

That is all there is.