Colors


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Color is magnificent. A blessing taken for granted to those who can see, and viewed as a curse to those who are unable to have their eyes ever truly opened. Memories imprinted into each of our minds are laced with the dulled presence of colors; the colors making them all the more sacred to one’s identity. Though the world carries on, though each person pursues their own journey in life, color is what appears to uniformly stain everybody's minds; the array of watercolors, mixed colors, dulled colors, pale colors and sometimes a most blinding color. The true beauty, though, lies hidden in the plain and absurd truth. The truth that most, if not all, of humanity neglects to acknowledge. The truth there is no way to truly describe a color. It is impossible to one who has never seen color and impossible to be described by one who has the ability to see beyond the normal spectrum. Colors themselves are not truly a thing of beauty, but rather just a paradox; a paradox that those who are able to see color fall into and can never escape. Something utterly simple is impossible to describe, even as it engulfs the world. The sky, absolute and encompassing color. The sight of the sky on a piece of paper, trimmed roughly at the edges, evoke sadness and sorrow. A perfect portrayal of one’s voice who has been broken down and stripped of their livelihood; the silence that follows one’s sharp breath; the cold shell of one who has experienced pain, has lost all hope and along with it, the portrayal of consciousness. The sky, cut out and placed on a piece of paper brings to mind a loss of humanity; yet the cut out sky placed within the world brings serenity. The sounds of waves crashing upon the shore, the utter joy felt when cold water enters one’s dried mouth, the tranquil sounds of an empty clearing where only nature speaks to those who are attentive enough to listen. Then the sky, the sky, when returned to its primary glory brings excitement and accentuates the true beauty of the world. The world seems to come to live, nature seems to awaken from its slumber, humanity itself is invigorated by the simple presence of a blue sky. The paradox of color. Something as simple and constant as the sky is impossible to describe and yet seems to convey a multitude of feelings, images, and words that seem to yet again contradict itself at every turn. Color IS magnificent. Yes, it is a blessing taken for granted to those who can see, and viewed as a curse to those who are unable to have their eyes ever truly opened. Yet, a prison has been created by humanity. They have used the simple beauty and complexity of every color for their own gain; too much has been attached and edited to convey their wanted feelings of pain, beauty, or sadness. Everything can be seen to have their own adopted and assigned color creating such a deep and destructive paradox that one cannot help but be pulled into, especially as they are taught to believe this is the truth from birth. Some say that beauty is only ever seen in the simplicity of life. The humble and yet marvelous things in life, such as a sunset. And sometimes, I believe, that the true meaning of life isn’t seen in the colors, but rather the absence.
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