Life is a mass of differing shades and hues
from blues
to highs, from white to grey:
a single day
can change its texture,
the mixture
of which can send you flying,
or dying
for a second chance to change
the strange turns
life can take,
which make
it plummet into a living hell.
A bluebell dell, a dream or a bird’s sweet trill
can calm the spirit
to provide a moment
when the ferment within
subsides and light
leads the night into day,
and turns around,
in one bound,
the overwhelming blackness,
restores lost happiness,
and let us see anew
a bright hue
among the shade just briefly lost.
Not without cost these dark and sombre days,
but the ways
ahead are bathed in sun
where feet can run
on paths still virgin pure
to provide a cure
for all the ills of the past,
and cast out gloom with carefree joy
to usefully employ
the white, the light,
the highs
and prise us from the depths of a hell
into the heart of a heaven.
For a while.
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