I like to think that the real world doesn't contain color;
That it is only by mechanisms of human interpretation
That we attribute green to new budding life on spring branches,
And pink to the under bellies of clouds in winter sunsets.

That it has been developed by our species like language
In our race to improve human experience
Created as we were pushed forward by human nature.

I like to think of human nature as the only constant,
Human nature as the driving force behind nature itself.
Nature, which we have always taken as greater than ourselves,
But what can be greater than we
When we are the determiners
Of what we see around us?

Who can draw a line between perception and reality
When we can only perceive our own separate realities in truth?
A line we've never crossed to draw our own conclusions
Is to allude to the possibility that what we see isn't reality,
That reality is really only our means of defining
The parameters of our lives,
Colorless or otherwise.