Promise-born on a canvas stroked with dun,
Looks a man for hues, hence shadows to shun.
Hidden's a day's dye backwoods a child's eye.
Only some walk nigh where true wonders lie.
Tints turn from raven birth to dovy death.
Far cry colors bout in a vision's breath.
'Tis in mind's eye to espy woe from blue
When giant ants move beady mountains of rue.
Pick all vibrant hues, eschew the tethered.
Dyes of default-assent beget hatred.
Thoughts and sentiments behind barred casements
Bide dawn's brightest in gold shod regiments.
When sentinels descry where bluebirds flew.
Merriness is nigh as blue has left rue.
We live in a world conceived almost differently by each one of us, which is wondrous. While a man would be bored to death, some other -right in the same setting- would be carried away in a rush of sentiments by what wonders they believe that they see in exactly the same setting. I'm not questioning what makes what we see real. It's only what it boils down to: how perspectives or colors gratifiy our lives.
Like whether it is the egg or the chicken first, it's a conundrum whether sentiments breed thoughts or thoughts bring out sentiments. I'm more on the latter side, though. The poem maintains a man has to find the true colors himself. Falling in step with others and adopting default values and thoughts will only bar him into a dark chamber. To an extent though, this message echos Plato's Allegory of the Cave.
Given the rampant demands of the competitive mass production industry from the mere individual, such as the imposed customer identity on him, exposure to education aiming goals aligned with the industrial objectives of a country but not with those that exalt individual identity, exposure to the commonness of cheap bloodshed in the Middle East and the sinister engineering of almost calloused indifference to it almost worldwide, ambition for power in a big city to the cost of forgetting the child inside, I feel that our rainbow is changing into Bifrost, the bridge where Nordic gods of Asgard are waiting for frost giants start their assault and bring complete ruin to the world: Ragnarok.
The bottomline is where true identity is, there is meaning, meaning is colour and the rainbow is so so beautiful. We have to choose them colors well.