I Often Think of the Color Black

I often think of the color black,

an unnatural shade that takes me back

to those dark days before the dawn

when my soul withered beneath her scorn.

Where else in nature does it appear,

hidden deep within the heart of fear

or those dark silent moonless nights

where nothing grows in the absence of light?

Is it even a color at all,

to show autumn’s dance every Fall

or catch the spark in a child’s eye

or the shades of blue in the morning sky?

I think not, in the end,

to think of black as colors blend.

It only exists with our passive consent

to color the world with my discontent.