Waves Within Machines

Purple, is the darkest colour of them all, blue calms the soul smoothly like the rivers that fall. Green roughly demands attention drowning the others out, yellow brings neutrality and hardly ever gets loud. The sun sets under an orange shroud of pollution, an arrogant red provides more confusion. Together they form a rainbow with nothing but beauty to show, so why do only artists realize the potential that these separate colours hold.

A father with a shady past has many of those he holds dear, not being able to protect his family is all he fears. He chooses paths he deems best, makes this choice alone without consideration of the rest. His withering strength leaves him wondering who will take over for him, when he's gone away to eternal bliss. A mother wants the world to revolve around her, when conflict rises between them it's only the children who are hurt. With her beauty comes an easy life, but with that came greed that cuts like a knife. Their son keeps a distance and seems so casual, he chooses no side because this violence isn't natural. A disturbingly average person is what he'll become, not much of a legacy left when he's gone. He inadvertently keeps his family together, turning this tension into a beautiful harmony and does he regret it? Not ever. The mother and father raise their daughter to be a perfect mould of them, she shows promise to a future same as the one that's been done again and again. However, with the strength of her father, beauty of her mother, and even the absurd normality of her brother, the future she'll make is similar to no other. This dysfunctional family exists in perfect synch, between the arrogant , the greedy, the beautiful, the peaceful, and the future that's a product of all three, there is a common link. Society is a machine in which every family is a gear, each individual who makes up these parts truly deserves revere. Mixtures of colors make up these people who make up the world, different emotions in each fill the roles for harmonious existence to be unfurled. The moral here is that society is a mixture of machinery and art, and in this collaboration there is no small part. We are the different colours of paint, and the future is our canvas where diversity is not so faint.