Many would describe life as a colourful landscape.

A landscape with valleys that carve into the lush, verdant mountain sides with ease.

Leaving nothing

where something once was.

A landscape with powerful rivers that work their way into the hills,

carving a path down to the infinite oceans. Leaving a new cold and vibrant sapphire colour where once there was a vivid emerald.

These colours exist.

But they are only a dream for those naive enough to look at life with a bright flashlight.

Those with flashlights see only what they want to.

Limiting their sight of themselves to only the perimeter of the bright light.

Leaving out the majority of their truth.

They don’t understand that life is really a monochromatic place.

A place made of infinitely deep darkness and the pure white light.

It is a dark, flat desert.

A lifeless and unforgiving place where everything that grows forth ends up buried in the sand.

The colours really only exist in the greater moments. The ones of aching sorrow, and the ones of beaming happiness.

You might catch a bit of red when a powerful scarlet heart begins to beat,

only to fade back to dull gray as it breaks in half. The colours were maybe real,

but life has no permanent hue.

The colours might flicker,

but in the end there is

Only light and darkness.