Readily rubescent, ruddy
Filtering through vision muddied
Neither bare nor barren, but
Beholden to a sunset which
Burns far less brightly than before.

Opaline and ochre leanings
Graft liminal and fleeting meaning
Upon such transient and demeaning
Being as thankless as the chore of seeing
Hue remembered at the door.

Now lacking viridescent showing,
Unto the drab grey world goes flowing
A surfeit of pessimistic 'knowing'
Apathetic at its core.

Into the deepest blue outpouring
And from a deeper blue the mooring
Of collective sanity is shoring
Up to stave off mad imploring
Of an absent God of yore -

Absent, indigo, and eerie,
Leaving us with naught but query,
And persistent, ling'ring theory
On the hopelessness and bleary
State left for us to now restore.

If in dreariness the problem lies
Bereft of colour before our eyes,
Then violet ink shall etch these sighs
Of stubborn, willful, mortal cries
Unwilling yet to just ignore

A black and white and grey existence
Bereft of joy and mirth and sorrow,
Lacking all that severance tore;
So I commit my pen to color:
And poetry, and hope, and more.

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 24th of Dharos, in the year 1 AC.