Made of (my) Red

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I decided to write on the abstract through the abstraction that is a color called "Red." I chose Red because it is the first color that inspires breaking out of Black & White thinking. It is also supposedly the color that grabs the most attention.

My Red was free as the energy's source,

ceaseless as could be.

 

But then I met a lover

who kicked my Red back to me.

 

Like I was at the ready

for a time that I could not believe,

I kicked the Red ball into

a bird that flew and flew. 

 

Dark were the days that followed

until I learned

of Hieronymus Bosch,

to whom a red ball also appeared: 

what Lust looks like to The Devout.

 

But his went beyond

a single painting or image

for he found the wings most-Red

while I look for mine in the scrimmage:

Is Red only what I am shown,

or a product of what I know?

 

 

Can I choose it to be what it was:

the Love that Black and White bore?

 

 

A trilogy formed from a sequel,

a lover made twice absurd

tries again the third time

this round, looking for Love's opened door.

 

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