What is language but a painting
Interpreted from mind to mind?
Movement, texture, value, light
Beauty, darkness, hope, and slight,
Channeled within from me to you
With only a tongue,
This mental picture grew.

So I inquire, is there any soul
Who as of now finds their palette whole?
Who, given opportunity, would deny
to see colors imperceptible
to the human eye?

None exist who would forsake the chance,
But most give not a second glance
To shelves of books, stuffed richly with words
That expand the canvas of the mind to contain
Amazing landscapes, the view of birds,
The warmth of the sun and the sting of rain.

With these words one can think in colors unseen
The ocean is not blue, but aquamarine;
The sunset sky was clearly cerise;
We were not plagued with wind,
But stroked by a breeze.
Clearly without color life is dull,
So it follows that these words we mustn't cull.