How much difference would it make, if a colour melted into
another?
If the majestic Red of its thousand shades, ceased to be…!
How many more sunsets would drown in a sea of pale blue?
How many more fruits would be devoured by green worms?
How much more bloodshed would dry up into a white silence?
How many more blazing suns to be engulfed by a black hole?
But for now Red is whole, gleaming and glowing still hiding
a tale of its own!
I wonder if she were a woman, I wonder who she would be:
I wonder if she would be a lover, a rose yet to bloom,
With blush on her cheeks and a shy pout on her lips…
Maybe a phoenix, rising from ashes of black dismay
Her body strengthens with each pulse of her colour
She is a vixen, her eyes painted with faces to kill
With spirit of righteousness hidden under a shroud of
revenge …
Maybe Red is a man, a man waiting to be of significance:
Maybe he is in anger, for his eyes gleam through to his soul
And his aura a reflection of the turmoil he so holds…
Maybe he is in pain, writhing and toiling, testing his
faith…
In agony so brutal, he cares not for the fate of any other
shade.
He stands to signal danger, to show that this is end of
roads!
I wonder what the end of Red’s story is: I wonder where it
will fall.
As a lover, phoenix, vixen or in anger, pain and distraught?
I yearn to get an answer every time I knock, instead mocks
me to the ground,
As the answer pounds against my wrist and in my heart, every
time I call…
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