A Thought Settled in This Paper

The storm washed it all away, the books, the pictures, the cars, the trees, even houses and buildings. But it could not wash away the stories that used to live in these objects. Now they float freely through the air, and sometimes storms take them and guide them until they get to their new houses. And so, I am a story’s home now; well probably not the home of a story but rather of a thought. I don’t know what brought it or how, but I shall make it feel comfortable.

“I am blue, light blue. I swirl, calmly. I love, easily. I stand and repose, I walk and dance. Sometimes I even fly in tranquility. But then I’m not so sure about it, because then I am red, fire red. Then I’m all the bad, I’ve got over-sexuality. I am over-dramatic. I am over-emotional, and over-temperamental. Control becomes a stranger before my eyes, and it stands far from my hands. Sometimes it has a mocking expression on its face, like if it knew I want it near, but I cannot seem to get it. But then, the color drains down through my veins, it drips slowly. I don’t even sense when does it happen. It also evaporates and gets lost in surroundings. And then there is no calamity, and no ease; there’s no desperation, neither is there peace. Empty. Nothing here, nothing here. Empty. White, no, not white but gray or brown, an earthly color. But it is not a color. Empty. But then, it fills up, with knowledge, and regret. It stabs my hands at times, for not using them. It’s stabs my soul at times, for losing it. It stabs my faith at times, because it can see, but perhaps it is blind. Perhaps it is not. And I’ve witnessed so many colors and non-colors. I’ve experienced the essence of them all. I’ve been blue, light blue. I’ve been red, fire red. I’ve been empty. I’ve been full, overflowing. I’ve been orange, and midnight blue, and moss green, and electric pink, too, and sugar brown, and lilac, and mustard, and beautiful plum and deep hideous gray, and every damned or blessed color there is. I’ve become clouds and fallen with the rain. I’ve swam and floated. I have died and lived. I have stood outside and watched, but I have been inside with a closen eye. I’ve done this, I have not; I’ve done that, but I’ve done none. I am everything, but I am nothing.”

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