Textured Hues

Life is a mass of differing shades and hues

from blues

to highs, from white to grey:

a single day

can change its texture,

the mixture

of which can send you flying,

or dying

for a second chance to change

the strange turns

life can take,

which make

it plummet into a living hell.

 

A bluebell dell, a dream or a bird’s sweet trill

can calm the spirit

to provide a moment

when the ferment within

subsides and light

leads the night into day,

and turns around,

in one bound,

the overwhelming blackness,

restores lost happiness,

and let us see anew

a bright hue

among the shade just briefly lost.

 

Not without cost these dark and sombre days,

but the ways

ahead are bathed in sun

where feet can run

on paths still virgin pure

to provide a cure

for all the ills of the past,

and cast out gloom with carefree joy

to usefully employ

the white, the light,

the highs

and prise us from the depths of a hell

into the heart of a heaven.

For a while.

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