I've been painting the world in blacks and whites,

assuming all I see to be

or not be

But I know nothing of the colors,and nothing of the world,

who am I

to decide?

They say the rainbow's colors are red, orange,

yellow, green,

blue, indigo, violet

But what decides that there isn't a box of crayons,

filling the space in our pupils,

bringing us this refracted light

There is little I know of certainty

but this assures me

that such exists so rarely

And I am unsure

of the colors in the day and night

the colors of people

What mind chooses that

the color of gloom

is bolder than hope?

And in this day

in every day

I have come to see

what so many choose not to

That I know nothing of the colors

the colors of life,

the colors of death

the colors of everything in between

But with a hand poised with a crayon

a mind open to possibility

maybe one day I will see.