Melancholy
Ultramarine, cerulean blue—

a cordial, yet fervent orange.
Clouds dance

with adjacent pink

and pearl grey,
separate parts of four souls

becoming indistinguishable

within a singular picture.
Do you decimate and violate art

when you paint with malevolence, 

with a neglectful hand?
Spirits not longing to unite,

yet simply fusing and melding.
You are helpless

in the dismantling

of innately natural valour

locked within.
Immense struggle is wired.

Chaos is unmistakably destined

from the instant a soul

takes its first breath.
That breath fiercely holds perfection,

yet must always exist
in the company

of a powerfully wrenching cry.
Still, we will saunter—

as peacefully
as blue and orange

conflate.