the secret of a blue rose

•

Blue is my color so favorite,

For with it, and through it,

I can ponder the depth of my sadness,

freely, willingly, and knowingly.

Accepting that it fades,

throughout the day,

As the sky turns to blue,

and then darkens to grey.

And I feel that somewhere,

someone out there,

Knows of disappointments,

just as I do.

•

When I was a child,

my heart was a boulder.

Grounded in love,

for miracles.

I fought for my rights,

every day, every night.

My innocent mind would ponder,

so gravely upon this,

“Never let them take blue from you.”

I’d plead to myself.

But as I grew older,

the foundation was torn,

by storms.

And with it the fact,

that my body,

was real.

•

When the storms came,

as trembling terrors of quakes,

as a versatile destruction.

I sat and I watched,

while my heart shattered to pieces.

Exploding,

it scattered throughout the whole world.

And by nightfall I was just another

broken hearted child,

Terrified of society,

and it’s faded responses.

•

The reality so accepted,

seemed as real as a dream,

And my heart pounded faster,

the longer I’d stream.

Down the river of reasons,

to be and not to be,

To move with the currents,

or hold onto the rocks.

•

I would stand in large crowds with millions of sounds,

rumbling at once.

The cars and the bikes,

the footsteps and trains,

And in that chaos,

it seemed as though,

The sounds were competing,

for public recognition.

Unaware that every sound

had a tone of its own,

Each a grand part,

in the symphony,

of harmonious dissonance.

•

Blue,

I would think.

And the fear would dissipate,

into the never ending game,

of transformation.

Blue,

I am broken.

But still beautiful,

just like this color,

and the depths of its mystery.

•

Blue.

Can you still remember,

the smell of a bully?

The hate they would throw,

at the sight of your difference.

Can you still remember,

the taste of first love?

The love that you know,

you’ll never prove true.

For how can one know,

what the other will do?

How can one know,

that the words spoken,

are from the fountain of soul?

•

Blue.

Is the color that saved me from despair,

For in its existence I accepted my fair.

Share of expression

and with it the risks,

of being seen naked,

In a world where nudity,

is seen as a weakness.

•

Blue.

Not all will know what it feels to be,

the blue rose that rises out of the fields.

For not all have the courage,

to share what they feel.

This world has us trained,

that the colder, the better.

So when warmth is the letter

you write from each day,

You’ll see many,

run steadfast away.

“ And that’s okay.

It’s all okay. “

- That’s what the strength of its wisdom, blue -

my color so favorite,

has taught me today.

And every day that

may come my way.

•

Blue roses in heaven degraded in soil,

Found within rooms of harnessed coils,

that keep all the protons

within us afloat.

This is the truth of minds who don’t waver,

they stay without meaning,

find peace in the storm,

find peace in not belonging.

Peace within the ocean,

we know less of than the stars.

For how fearful we are

of the bottomless blue.

What lies beneath the surface?

Is it from you?

•

Blue