The brush off
I watched as the colors began to spread,
shifting and changing across the neutral white
until they formed an opinion.
I did not realize it at the time
but the colors were on a journey
and neither they nor their opinion would be tamed
until the day of their final word,
which may not happen until they have been choked and consumed
by ashes or dust.
For now they proudly tell us who they are
and what it means to be burnt umber or phthalo blue
and about the nature of relentless blending,
knowing full well that we will ignore them
and write books about purpose and intent
that completely miss the point.