White is life; it’s every hue combined in equal measure. The passion of your heart, the love of red, of blood and anger. It’s the cold and distant blue, rejection and the afternoons alone. It’s your suspicion when I’m out with friends, the words that’s whispered by the green-eyed monster. It’s also cowardice when I fail to deal with those that done you bad, jaundiced yellow as a drunkard’s liver. Life is white, a spectral balance of emotional nuances, of cold and warm in careful measures. But when love is fading, gradually the brilliance of also other colors fade, and lethargic you will search for light in voids where the light have ceased. That day when you no longer can distinguish if it’s day or night, it’s night, death is black.
fragrance of lilies —
white against the casket’s lid
an old widow’s hand
It was a long time since I wrote a haibun, and Grace prompt at dVerse inspired me to do an effort. The idea is basically that white is a combination of all colors and black is no color at all.
June 9, 2015