colours of the day
white.
Purity, clarity, hope and dreams. Like clouds in the morning, soft, pristine and gentle. Full of promise, full of vigor, bursting with possibilities. Like a blank paper, waiting to be filled, like the gentle falling of snow, covering all that is beneathe.
grey.
The rigours of work, the dreariness of time as it is sieved through the chores that fills the day. Stretched out infinitely like the endless roads, it twists and turns at every corner unpredictable yet unexciting.
yellow.
Rest, healing, the recuperation of the body. In slumber all is repaired, in slumber all is given a new dash of life and vigor
pink.
Excitement, delightment and all round enjoyment. Rose tinged cobbles and flower petals filled every step of the way. Infused with sweet heady fumes and bathed in the pink glow of the even sun, a wonderful respite from the dreary grey. The world seen through the glass of ice wine, warm, dreamy and intoxicating.
green.
Promises of life, tied to the certainty of death; hallmark of spring, just before the scortching of the summer. Circles of destructive creations and creative destruction caught in an endless cycle of negatives, seemingly neverending. Welled up fury meets the frost of denial, seething poison is a witch's cauldron. Ivy creepers crawling, tangling, strangling thought, eating and sapping the life of the host.
black.
All is calm in the aftermath. Nonchalance presides over the emptiness. In darkness all colours flee, in darkness all colours end. Where the day started with all the promises, it ends with utter nothingness. In darkness cruel neutrality reigns, where all is equal, all seem the same. In the calm neutral nothingness of the night, promises and hopes are buried with swift finality.
Purity, clarity, hope and dreams. Like clouds in the morning, soft, pristine and gentle. Full of promise, full of vigor, bursting with possibilities. Like a blank paper, waiting to be filled, like the gentle falling of snow, covering all that is beneathe.
grey.
The rigours of work, the dreariness of time as it is sieved through the chores that fills the day. Stretched out infinitely like the endless roads, it twists and turns at every corner unpredictable yet unexciting.
yellow.
Rest, healing, the recuperation of the body. In slumber all is repaired, in slumber all is given a new dash of life and vigor
pink.
Excitement, delightment and all round enjoyment. Rose tinged cobbles and flower petals filled every step of the way. Infused with sweet heady fumes and bathed in the pink glow of the even sun, a wonderful respite from the dreary grey. The world seen through the glass of ice wine, warm, dreamy and intoxicating.
green.
Promises of life, tied to the certainty of death; hallmark of spring, just before the scortching of the summer. Circles of destructive creations and creative destruction caught in an endless cycle of negatives, seemingly neverending. Welled up fury meets the frost of denial, seething poison is a witch's cauldron. Ivy creepers crawling, tangling, strangling thought, eating and sapping the life of the host.
black.
All is calm in the aftermath. Nonchalance presides over the emptiness. In darkness all colours flee, in darkness all colours end. Where the day started with all the promises, it ends with utter nothingness. In darkness cruel neutrality reigns, where all is equal, all seem the same. In the calm neutral nothingness of the night, promises and hopes are buried with swift finality.
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