Fabulous…
A word for a certain triumphant pleasure.
Fantastic…
Another word for when I’m pleased with a success.
Each word triumphs my former ability to be pleased.
Or more specifically it speaks of sorrow that once washed my brilliant, buoyant landscapes in indigo and grey…
Once crater’ed my mountains…
Once stole innocent, giddy smiles.
But in the fabulous and fantastic in my brilliant buoyant landscapes so full of color and expanding cheer,
A part of me wants to cast all the colors of pain away completely.
A part of me wants to have no shadows at all and get a whole new word…
And eradicate all the darker memories of my life.
Would not I then forget how to triumph?
Would not all that light and color then become flat and unflattering?
Could we even see the petals of a rose without the shadows?
Would the crane’s eyes be seen fishing in the mirrors of the water?
© 2012
