I believe in this remarkable life we live, that each soul is colored differently. Some have a tone that is bright and vivid and some are deeper hues filled with a passion beyond belief. Some are more easy to pale and some remain ever true in any light. In this story I am yet to weave to you, dear reader, I speak of a boy whose soul had a color that had never been seen before. Bright yellows, subtle earth tones, a crisp orange, but coupled with a passion filled blue-it was unnamable but filled with the mystery of an unmarked novel, enticing and familiar but unknown. Most are unable to see these hues but some are granted with this gift, as I am. And I can say most undoubtedly that this particular hue was as unique as the individual it belong to. This, was the color of ...well-him, and it was truly a soul to match the beauty of the person within, because after all-not everything is as they appear my dear. Not everything is always clear.

On a stormy afternoon in the middle of December, I awoke to the crash of lightning outside my window, startled and jolted awake. At first, I thought I must be dreaming-why would a girl be standing out there in the rain at this time of night. Yet there she was, as I saw again, the light smashing through the sky again illuminating her windswept locks, soaked to the bone. This, was Mary Elizabeth as I would come to know her-and she truly was a remarkable entity. A dreamer, no doubt was she, as well as eternally cursed with an uncurable case of wanderlust. She dreamed of the mountains, rising high with her spirit into the sky, and was beautiful. In looks, you ask? Well yes, but more so was her soul. That spirit of hers coupled with her kind heart led her to be the one, and remarkable Mary Elizabeth I was about to meet outside my window.

There no point trying to deny it. Life is a mess. War, famine, horror, death-it's always there no matter what you do to make a difference. Sometimes you just wish you could turn out the lights, start a new day, or hit the permanent snooze button. But. There is good in this messed up world of ours and it can be found pouring out of every edifice with the brightness of a billion suns if the lighting is just-right.
What's the reflectors that can project such a light?
Humanity-our perfectly imperfect souls.

No one understands me…
No one really cares…
Would anyone notice-
-Or would dying be playing fair?

She raises the headpiece of wires,
Twined like a garland of thorn.
Looking into enigmatic eyes
To see the love still unborn.
Her beloved Doctor-
Oh why do you have to cry?
How painful it must be-
To meet with a goodbye.