In the stories of artwork, there’s a lot of stuff to look over.
Quiet context with its tranquility.
Loud containers that came running in.
Some happy and some sad, lived and kept.
Sometimes with no additional notes and others with long conversations behind them.
And every one of them a prop to be used with certainty by the color of blue.
For depicting the sky on a summer’s day.
For coloring a dragon that comes to life in survival.
For a favorite worn blanket.
For the chilly breeze of unreturned love.
For the part in between the fading moon and the sun that’s just below the horizon.
And for the doubt that slowly creeps along the spaces of gardens.
Because blue is really good at laying it down.
At expressing the emotional wreckage that squares up.
At naming the fear behind the red of anger.
At sharing the clean and the messy parts of forget-me-nots.
At filling in where words have been hard to get through.
And at showing up for the devalued as well as the valued.
Because blue paints what’s in the dark and the light.
Is built for being surrounded by other colors and empty pages.
Is sentimental for everyone.
Is changeable everywhere.
Is close by for anything and everything.
And is the color for sorrow as well as joy.
For blue is a steadiness within our artwork.
Isn’t biased.
Repeats with ease.
Reflects both honesty and possibilities.
Shelters stuff gathered purposefully and randomly.
And keeps the focus on us in what still doesn’t make sense.
Who would have guessed that the color of blue would see us all the way through the memories?
That we wouldn’t even think about it and yet it would still be there?
It’s possible then, a particular word is sitting amongst stuff while we are unaware that it’s talking.
Have the best day, POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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