The light splits in seven equal ways.
And I look upon each in a different way.

The first breaks like passion into triangles of love.
A shimmering red emerges from its core.
Torn between mortal and immortal.
I holds out for something more.

The second eases my mind like water.
As I stare into it’s ocean blue.
Calm surpasses all emotions.
Simple thoughts become enough to make due.

The third brings the opposite.
As it sets my lungs on fire.
I stare into hate like I would a grave.
And my soul quickly begins to tire.

The fourth could be my favorite.
Pure white overtakes my mind.
Numbness fills my body.
And nothing matters -- when all are kind.

The fifth could stand alone.
Though it likes it’s crowd.
Green envy kills those who stand inside it.
And allow its voice to be loud.

The sixth is the shyest.
As it has no place to call home.
Sweet, brown indifference they call it.
To those unknown and known.

The seventh is the last.
Though it’s punch seems to be the worst.
No color to it but a feeling.
And we all sacrifice for love’s thirst.

The light splits in seven different ways.
And I see only six.


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