I know I cried yesterday,
And you were ready to be done yesterday.
The whole world was so tired yesterday.
We weren’t sure if anybody cared if the world went on yesterday.
It was like so many of the yesterdays of yesterday.
I thought maybe today would be like yesterday.
Should I look forward to tomorrow when I remember yesterday?
Then today lit up the world.
It was a grey morning and I had a grey heart.
It was a tear hangover and my eyes were drooping low.
The earthly struggles of today were like yesterday.
And there were new battles.
Life doesn’t stop being hard.
But slowly, slowly, my heart started to glow.
Greyness became lighter, changed hue.
More colors joined in, swirling round and round something.
Something, because I know I was not the nucleus.
But the colors kept spinning and I knew eventually they’d become white.
I watched in awe as they danced out of my control.
Maybe I was those colors; maybe those colors were leading me on.
Why shouldn’t I be a chromatic explosion today?
None of it made sense, but sense was suddenly nothing.
There were only the colors that were shaping and shattering me.
There were only the colors that struck me mute and made me sing.
There were only the colors that I was so afraid of, so in love with.
My world was the colors.
The colors were my world.
What were the colors?
The colors were hope and fear hurtling toward a climax.
A spark of beauty flew from the flooded heavens and settled in my stomach.
It was a tiny whisper of passion that grew to a battle cry.
Yes, I’m glowing, yes, I’m shining, yes, I’m a candle.
I’m a forestfire.
My fire fills my entire world, which is such a small part of the world.
My world is infinite, for my fire will spread on and on.
I’m set on fire, erupting in a thousand colors, for one thing alone.
How I wish I could breathe these colors into your soul.
How I wish my voice would flame with passion.
How I wish you could stare into my eyes and see past to truth.
How I wish we could dance in a color-filled wind, seeing the same things.
But my cold greyness was heated to a chromatic flame.
Are you burning inside, screaming beauty?
I’m not afraid of my tomorrow; are you?
My battle cry is not quenched inside any sea of deadness.
I’ll wade through every murky stream, offering my hand to the drowning ones.
Maybe the fire will reach you, and when it does, come cry tears of flame with me.
There’s no joy quite like this; why shouldn’t I be a chromatic explosion?
I’m so different, so healed, so beautiful.
Let me burn forever, and then a while longer.