Black

The day is over; I am feeling extremely lonely, well at least I think that’s what I feel. I have enjoyed the greater things life has to offer, but now its time to rest, rest for the body, but the mind is just starting to work. When the day is over, what is it that I have left to say? I can speak words but only I will hear them, I can draw a picture but when the daylight breaks I will take on a new vision for life. I think its best to just think black. Black is beauty, black is pure, black is black and it will never change. Black is the same as white, for white is beautiful and pure and unchanging. Red, blue, purple, yellow and green all attract emotion: emotion isn’t needed at times like these, when alone, emotion can grow, grow like poison ivy, which is why I think black. What is more judged than black? What is more used than black? What is more than black. Black itself isn't prejudice, how could it be? If it doesn’t judge me, on what basis do I have to judge it, therefore I cannot think black is just a colour, for black may not only be a shade of colour, it may possess a realm of its own.
Tomorrow is what I am waiting for, but it will always take an eternity to arrive and a split second to go again. So much is done in a day but I feel is isn't worth analysing at a time like this, not now whilst the room is an awe inspiring colour of black. Music is playing in the background but all I can hear is blackness, for some reason I feel strangely compelled to the dark, maybe black is more comforting than I once knew. I used to trust the daylight, but then it would leave me in the darkness, black always comes back to me, every night I am baffled by the darkness. It likes me I think.
When my eyes are closed the blackness wraps itself around me, I never want to leave, I yearn for the day but that’s is because I know it will bring me back to black. Back to this eternity of black.