Blue

There is a castle in the sky,

and blue is its king—

a color that commands,

hues that claim dominion

over all the lands.

A ruler by default, he dominates

our waking hours.

I think he assumes 

nothing else could reign.

Yet as evening approaches, 

when day bows to night,

The blue begins to blush,

And pink takes her place—

Queen of the stars and sky. 

The blue resists, possessive of his throne,

But cannot deny the allure of the rose,

their edges blending in twilight’s embrace.

For even the boldest blues

must yield to grace,

to the quiet power of light.

Thus the Queen and King decree:

“The sky does not discriminate.”

It welcomes the gold of the sun,

the whites and grays of clouds,

the orange of eve,

crimson and his company,

until twilight arrives in purple robes,

yielding finally to the black quilt of stars.

It holds them all—

A kaleidoscope of unity,

An infinite expanse of One. 

For it is in the merging

that the sky finds its most breathtaking form:

A symphony of colors,

each note essential to the whole.

Beyond blue. Beyond pink.

A horizon where all things coexist.

The sky doesn’t discriminate.

It knows its beauty lies not in one shade,

but in the harmony of every hue.

So why don’t we?