The sky isn’t actually blue.
In fact, every color we perceive
Is really just scattered particles
Of light that open up a spectrum.
So when the day slips into night
Everything is washed in greys
And our rainbow fades from sight.
The colors haven’t vanished
They will return with a new dawn.
But they never truly were there
A painting engineered by nature
Seen through our imaginations.
It’s a daily metamorphosis
Like how flowers start to blossom.
I’ve captured this small moment
And you can see the world like me
Though it no longer looks just so.
Similarly, stars move far sooner
Than the brilliant canvas appears
As an ethereal living painting to us.
So too will we all transform
For we’re also just light particles
That breathe and move and love.
Nothing ever stays the same
And soon these petals will fall
Like feathers to the earth
After a long and beautiful journey.
Life is a series of still images
Strung together into movies
None of which are ever identical.
Your sky will never be my blue
My flower won’t ever be yours
Yet somehow, we’ll remember it
In matching colorful memories.
Mirrors reflect light back at us
Your blue, my stars, our stories
Eventually collide into one.
We can’t recreate the past
Nor can we plan out our futures.
All we can do is open our eyes
And realize we can’t ever define
The ubiquitous individuality
Reverberating all around us.
Existence is a phenomenon, too
Full of lights and darks and colors
We can’t force others to discern.
Keep that in mind as you travel
Through whatever days you have
With a perspective only you know.
The sky may not really be blue
And the stars may be dancing
Differently than we behold.
But we’ll call them their names
As you call yourself yours.
No one will ever witness you
As you do your own being.
So say you are you and I am me
Blue is blue and stars are stars.
Even though they evanesce
And despite their mutability
They’ll always be right and real
You’ll always be your truth.
(image is my own)