These are but vain attempts to express, by one who wears her heart on her sleeve. Words, much like love, can be ever elusive... ever frustrating... like trying to paint a million stories on a single canvass. If you will read, please do not ask. Just feel. Or at least try to. The meaning is, whatever you have felt to be there, or the lack thereof :)

Purple Sky.

Of what color is the color of hope?
Is it like that of the purple sky?
Does it come tinge with the stillness of a wintry morning?
Could it ever be seen by the naked eye?

Is it also made up of varying hues?
Of what difference is that to the heart that feels it?
Is it like music, like light?
To what could it compare?
To the breeze? To angels and baby’s breath?

Is it bright enough to bring in the dawn
To a heart mired in the gloom of despondency?
Is it strong enough to move the spirit,
Compel it to overcome it’s melancholy?

Of what color is the color of hope?
How could anyone ever see it?
And how could anyone believe in it so strongly?
Enough to see it’s light and reflect it?


08.06.03
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