In the chromatic dusk, a pulse resides,
Every hue a note, in solemn harmony resides.
Beneath the poet's sky, they wield, silently,
Vermeer-colored dreams bleed into twilight.
Wisp upon silver cloud's breath, creature profiles,
Speak in pastels to time's unyielding choir.
For what is a starfruit if not an echo
Of a papaya's forgotten orchid dream.
Melodies glean rainbows clad in sylvan attire,
Amber songs by soldered whispers retire.
And creatures under veiled heaven forlorn,
Remember starfruit that embitters morn.*
Colors blindium'd across penumbral tides,
Where brush-tipped creatures pirouette astride.
Crimson confess the arterial vagrant truth
As colors clutch at our weary cosmic youth.
Sing now, oh synthetic splash of life:
Awakens tenebrous shades to primal strife.
Orchestrate auroras under muscular dome,
Harmonize rhythms, softly serenades of home.