Ikigai

Omnichroma

Dark of the night and whispering dreams;

Lamplight and shadows and dark rainy streams

On old, dirty windows. The clock strikes its tone,

I look all around me and find I'm alone.

Gray of the world turns gray what I think,

I shade the white paper with shadowy ink.

Blue of a twilight that's born in the sea,

Hopes that were phantoms and dreams we can't see.

Cold blue horizon and royal deep shade,

Embracing the midnight where lovers are made.

Blue of the world turns blue what I think

I stroke the white paper with indigo ink.

Purple of flowers and night's bitter end,

Monarchs and minsters playing pretend:

Smoke of the fire: bruises and burns,

Blood of the heart when the breath won't return.

Purple world turns to purple what I think,

I dip the white paper in violet ink.

Blush of the morning and every new thing,

Roses and children and colors of spring.

Purest of rains from the old cherry tree,

Lovers and candy hearts – kisses for free.

Pink of the world turns pink what I think,

I flush the white paper with bubble-gum ink.

Bloody red fingers still gripping the knife,

Warning of storms in the morn, not the night.

Gleam of deep fire and sweet fruit's temptation,

Purchase of mercy as heaven's salvation.

Red of the world turns red what I think,

I stain the white paper with burgundy ink.

Morning's full splendor and flame in the night,

Boast of the autumn and wild tiger's bite.

Rajahs and temples, the warrior's brave song,

Embers that flash and the flame that burns strong.

Orange of the world turns orange what I think,

I light the white paper with pyrochromic ink.

Summer's full splendor passed by in a flash,

And treasures of dragons are found but don't last.

The dream of the miser and death of the lord,

Purchase of freedom or slave-master's horde.

Gold of the world turns gold what I think,

I edge the white paper with golden-flecked ink.

Life of the forest and gleaming green eyes,

Color of growing and hopes realized.

The poison and healing, the cunning and kind,

Fire of witches and health of the mind.

Green of the world turns green what I think,

I splash the white paper with emerald ink.

Dust of the fallen and ages untold,

Earth and her treasures, the hand that is old,

Sun-burnt and flame-burnt and autumns' last sigh,

Words of the ancients and remnant of time.

Brown of the world turns brown what I think,

I burn the white paper with cordovan ink.

End of the question with answers unsaid,

Shade of the sorrow that comes with the dead.

Ashes and mourning, a kingdom burned down,

Lies of the serpent, the skeleton's crown.

Black of the world turns black what I think:

I wash the stained paper with ebony ink.

Winter's cold nothing and all that old men

Once knew but have lost and cannot find again.

Remnants of burning that float like hot snow,

Cinders, blank pages, and all we don't know.

White of the nothing turns all the world bright,

I change the black paper for paper of white.