Crimson lines run through the un-illuminated river
Splashing in gathering waves at the bottom
Of the waterfall.
By right the waves should make a crashing sound
Some sort of surging sweeping sound.
Crimson lines act as a muting aid.
No sound as they fall.
Wide eyes find them fascinating
As they watch them swirl in the darkness.
Although understandably to those of a closed heart
They do not express the same fondness.
"A river should be blue not black
Blue like the sky and sea
With green lines not red
This I cannot comprehend!"
You cannot paint over the black
It's power is too rugged
So vacate your disapproval
Of the crimson lines
They illuminate the un-illuminable
Night.
