falling is the color
of a naked heart, dipped
in cobalt dreams & violet
yearnings; bruises blooming

in amber, coagulating red roses;
marrow fueled & exposed, as it rises
—golden-yellow like the waking sun
with olive desires & an indigo passion;

it is in the merging of pigments into bright
light, brutal and blinding, but full of delight.

Pigments cascade down the canvas,
Coating the blank white with imagination.
Drip, drip, they fall with grace to embrace
The pocked surface beneath their bodies.
They intermingle, form new forms,
Yet continue to go their own ways,
Unaware of the driving force.

The artist stands off to the side,
Watching his creation swirl.
He created a storm, a beautiful storm.
He folds his arms, his face stoic,
For the pigments express his emotions.