There is a color in the horizon that does not belong.
It waits until the sun’s patrol is done to appear
A thief capable of stealing the pupils of children.
It springs forward from the monotonous grey
Providing proof of promises to young lovers.
This color is a fire that burns only for a few
Leaving a cloud of black smoke in it’s wake.
This is God’s favorite color, (or at least I’m convinced).
Appearing only when he wants it to
Serving as a blanket to wrap up our sorrows and satisfactions.
It looms over vast lakes and dense forests,
Able to grant the mother a moment of reprieve;
It is this color that I aim to add to my easel
Painting it upon my bare chest
Every time it appears.
I pray to carry it,
continuing live in this borrowed time
As a radiant child
Destined to illuminate the world.
May I always feel the warmth of God upon my face in the sunset.