- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Prism: Splintered Colors of My Soul
Brain scattered sliced, projected painfully, wrenched and splintered,
each color a separate representation of the self that is hot white nothing,
dull and whole inside my mind.
Individual fragments exist brightly,
shine golden yellow happy sometimes muddled by glee.
Fiery scarlet anger, furious from insults real and imagined,
abuses consumed and regurgitated, frustration brewing,
helpless roiling rage bottled deep inside.
It fades to deep sapphire despair of helpless
hopeless impotence and powerlessness pushing me deeper
to an almost steely gray.
Verdant green envy seething deep
why do i feel so petty, empty, bitter...
Violet, mellowing warming calm, accepting,
not so deep and cold and dreary
raining down upon me,
amused by the ruminating, rambling of my blue and green.
Muted tangerine relieves me, slightly apathetic, warm,
fiery anger resting, fading, releasing the pain,
yet not so warm and carefree as her sunburst lemon cousin.
I mellow, slipping into the nothingness, quiet void of feeling,
neutral white so peaceful, calm, forgiving, no longer torturing my soul.
I feel the verge of sunburst lemon, happy, almost giddy,
still fearing azure tugging
back to green for moments that are
lost again to orange - a schizophrenic sunburst to rival white.
The bland wholeness of my jagged shards regroups, coalescing,
subverting all the colors of my being into quiet, placid submission -
tranquility neither warm nor cold.
My entire being feels everything and nothing in the same moment, same space,
neutral once again until the schism sends my senses jagged, flung far, each sliver splintered,
separating the wholeness of my being once again.
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© 2014 The Zen Mistress