I once had a dream

that when we pass on,

it wasn’t our minds that

transcend and transform,

but shades of our vibrations,

colours of auras,

that float into the cosmos,

illuminating the darkness.

Vibrant brushes of crimson

for those driven by anger,

soothing strokes of green

for the empaths and carers,

highlights of gold

sparkling for the innocent,

a multicoloured universe

creating something

quite magnificent.

In my dream I could I gaze upon,

a spectrum of colourful souls,

....a kaleidoscopic canvas,

all blending together as one.

tell me a story

the one with the girl

in blue teared oceans

with red winged scars

and a black filled heart.

tell me a story

the one with the girl

who dances in glass roses

with white whispered secrets

and frozen violet hands.

tell me a story

the one with the girl

with mossy green life

yellow kissed cheeks

and tender pink lips.

tell me a story

the one with the girl

who breathes rainbows.

who wakes in orange rays

and falls asleep in milky indigos

who bathes in light and dark

to grasp what is ungraspable.

Violet is a humble flower, hidden in the shade

Indigo is ripened grapes, coloured with their age

Orange is a candle flame, flickering in the breeze

Red is a little poppy, pretty as you please

Blue is the ocean, spraying cold and wet

Yellow is the sun, as it rises, as it sets

Green is the grass as it sways in the field

Rainbow is the symbol of a promise fully sealed.

Color was reality given form. The expressive consequence of a broad yet fine brushstroke across existence. We perceived the small scene from the visible spectrum. It was merely a mural on the chromatic canvas of the universe, a boundless tapestry that would endure for eternity.

Why do I live?

Closing your eyes against the sun

Hot sand between your toes

Sleigh bells ring

Red

The sun melting into the horizon

Sitting before a fire

Roasting marshmallows

Orange

Reading a new book

He says hi

A melting popsicle

Yellow

Lying under a tree

Finding the world has changed

Moving away

Green

Those days in the rain

Closing your eyes

Against the tears

Blue

Running through a field of flowers

Smelling intoxicating lilacs

Getting a hug

Purple

Your first kiss

A baby reaches out to you

Flowers from him

Pink

I live for the colors of life.

Autumn in the mountains. The stunted alpine blueberry bushes turn red as garnets, and the willows become a subtle topaz. Snow dusts the tops of mountains like crystals, and the dark spruce trees seem like garnets scattered about the hills. A sharp chill lingers in the air, the sky endlessly blue as sapphires. And just when it’s all about to end, the days tangibly shorter and the seemingly inevitable darkness, the crown jewel of them all returns: the northern lights dance purple like amethysts in the sky and winter’s cold arrival doesn’t seem so bad after all.

Mixing paints upon the palette: Night

Merging rays within a rainbow: Light

A brushstroke on canvas, black and opaque

A surge in the sky, clarity in its wake

Whose paper-thin depth has the capacity to conceal the deep dark sea?

Whose boundless breadth has the capacity to reveal whatever might be.

Every taint or hue is more or less something not comforting i turn to things so dreary-like so mistaken of its own giving i forget sometimes that life isn't just mechanical dryness. learning to love to reconnect to nature is like watching a witch spin a thousand spider's webs the smell is cramming into a book noggin waiting for something returning to nothing smiling, but never realising why. everytime colours erupt into a frenzy, it burns my ears with its harmonic melody, turning my body from the inside out spilling all my organs on the floor in a euphoric loop.

When we talk you make me taste pale blue

surrounding you is yellow

the color of wild roses stains my cheeks

your words smell of lilac when you speak

oh it’s too easy to breathe when your around

speaking of around I feel warm oranges when I’m around you

though my mind is clear lush evergreen

it’s the crook of your neck which reminds me of the sunrise

and makes me want to paint you an oasis

our hearts are stained the color of stars at night

yet what we’ve become refuses to be black or white

no vessel

for any

soul,

yet It

boomed

‘You’re not supposed to be here.’

an aural assault

by freefall winds

gallowed

as I dove through

God’s eye -

this shape of infinity,

this babelic library,

this God’s godless dream,

My airborne burial.

Iris pulsed

ever-dancing fractals

of rainbowed mandalas,

of blooming flowers

drunk on time.

hues

from unseen spectrums

held vaults hiding

pure volumes,

and breathed.

O Euclidean Renegade,

shames mandelbrot’s set,

stains opalka’s project,

swallows piranesi’s prison,

SPARE ME...

suddenly,

It

sent

me

back

plummeting.

i laid on virgin tinfoil

under placid imitations

of rainbows.