there is something about the color black,
the smoothness,
the sheer elegance
the grungy roughness
of it.
Black,
the color of death?
i see life
in the ebony skin
of my brothers and sisters,
i see life
in the black of my eyes,
i see life in the black feathers
of the bird, prey of death.
Black is beautiful.
the constellations lie
in a black background
and shine for it the brighter.
Black takes me from
moody adolescent
to professional young lady,
to his **** woman.
Black transforms.
Black is edgy,
it's quiet,
it's power,
ever present
as the pupil into our lives.
black is, when light isn't.