The Colourful Thing
The day is filtering by unnoticed, just like days tend to. Face by
face, smile by smile, nod by nod – each moment tiptoes by. The sun (tired of smiling) is slowly changing faces with the moon
(tired of hiding). I'm draining away (like light does with the hours) when I
see the most colourful thing I have ever seen. It is a supernova collage – a
white phosphorous explosion with a rainbow stain. It forces the spectrum of
visible light a little wider than possible and paints pictures the shade of
fantasy. It breathes (swelling to inhale, shrinking to exhale) a dangerously
delightful drug that, for a moment, forces euphoria. I sleep-sigh like I've
found the answer to it all and drool-smile like I don't care I'm an addict. It
feels great. I mean, it's pretty OK. It is a burning obsession – like a nucleus
of daylight eating, from the centre outwards, through thin sheets of night.
Soon night is consumed and all there is left is an unmysterious morning. I
guess this is it. Pretty fun. It's still the best thing I've ever seen. I
wonder what comes next? Is there something more interesting than the most
beautiful thing I have ever seen? What is that most beautiful thing again?
Why did I stop here? Oh shit, it's dark! And everyone’s gone… left me behind.
I've been standing here wasting my life away… Why? I think I saw
something, but I can't for the light of me remember what.
