Mongrel Colour

Nov 15 2015

How odd, the purity of white.

The creamy porcelain saucer

the virgin bride.

Black ink

messily penned

on a blank absorbent sheet,

neutral, mute, serene

in its acceptance.

The wedding bed, deflowered;

stained red

sluiced clean.

Because it's a mongrel colour

of all visible light;

difference subsumed

in inexplicable white.

Combining pigment

you get brown, drab, dead.

But light is cleansed

of all impurity,

vaulting through the universe

to its ultimate edge,

pushing-out against

the black abyss.