There will never be happiness
            without

sadness.

Like there will never be a rainbow,
   before the

                               rain fell..

Oh this grey prison of our waking eyes,
It is colder than our long-lived and taciturn tides,
The moon smiles, beaming, upon our wavering way,
Knowing that our fervent sun will soon set fire to our new day.

This stranger pain and that neighbour sorrow,
They are jealous of the colours we are saving for tomorrow,
To blot them with night's ink is their insidious intent,
Let us hold our precious currency of colours, even until our last breath is spent.

The advent of our springtime seems as unlikely as our salvation,
Perhaps our darker clouds will begin to cry for our hydration,
Those tears would greet that arid soil like the dew drops greet the morn,
And from the dearest droplets fall, our spring is here, our spring is born.

What does emptiness look like?
Is it Black or is it White?
A white wall demands to be decorated
For humans to rip its core; to find colour
It contains no depth, no personality
White is easily contaminated
White often viewed as pure;
Disguised as a being without experience.

White has no feelings, it begs for a reason to exist
Given that purpose it only serves to brighten a colour.

A black wall demands an answer
For us to give it meaning; to look deeper
It contains emotions, a mystery
Black prompts us to look beyond the surface
Black often seen as a threat;
Screams out individuality.

Where is black contains darkness,
Where is black contains a story,
Where is black, contains a wall that was once a blank, white wall.

silence of your eyes
riot of colours in the
insidious dyes

Coloured lights brighten
the shortest day’s dreary night.
A dazzling glare.

Ask not the rainbow
what did it paint first
the first light?
With its first splash
of colours on the rose
it begs in the eyeballs
of all the stars.
Listen to the nightingale
why it still cries?