The secret life of rain colour

My colour has a secret life

It changes mood without warning

and results in tangential

demonstrations of common

muck-slinging about the right

of all colours to move

through exotic paths to ends

of earth’s parallel worlds.

It does not allow for the riotous

assembly of too much affording

it allows only the rights of the rain

coming into clouds like

they own them.

The rain does not own the cloud

the cloud only allows temporary accommodation

for them to drop on or head where

they feel most at home, wet

on our skulls.  Colour does not matter

then, it only matters in black skies when

they are subsumed by rain and do not

know when to ask for forgiveness for their plights

of evilled intentions.  It is not allowed to ask:

“when do the rains begin”,

for there are neutral colours which do not

understand rain, falling as it does on

colour-forming rainbows of God’s eyes.


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