My thoughts, a melange in my mind.

A few comprise bits of cosmic dust
   and strands of light
   from birthing stars.
A couple stained with drops of blood
   from rocks, earth, and fire.
At least one is like a marble bookcase.
   Leather-bound tomes with silver filigree
   store memories of many things.

Some float and some fall.
Some are taciturn and some call.
Some are hot and some are like
   stones in the winter moonlight.

They speak and move,
   even in sleep.
They weave dreams
   and paint tapestries of colored hope.

These with ocher hue
   tell of a body woven into earth.
Those, the deep blue of a midnight sun,
   breathe with the peace of stars.
Some scattered forest greens
   sing of beauty.
Bright orange, the guardians
   watch the tides ebb and flow.
Royal violet hopes of things
   that will never be
   but yet excite.
Hopes of rain-spotted silver,
   wreathed in gold and auburn,
   hopes of truth and justice.

My thoughts, a melange my mind.