White to Black

April 10, 2011
By Agent-011 BRONZE, San Luis Obispo, California
Agent-011 BRONZE, San Luis Obispo, California
4 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Colors... What are they? Are they figments of our imagination? Did God just pick up his paintbrush and, with a few strokes, paint them into existence? Maybe he just took white and ripped it into pieces? Or did the colors fight each other for a place in this world? Colors are an important part of our lives, each one having its own story, its own tale to tell. Different than the last, every color has its own individual personality, separating it from all the others. These characters, these personalities, they each have a story all their own. In these pages their tales have been immortalized; their strengths, their fears, each has been recorded for future generations to keep, to learn from, to inspire them. The heroes of these pages, who they are, what they are, what makes them unique, can be found below:

Red is the color of the passionate warrior. He goes into battle, laying his life on the line, all for the woman he loves. Out on the battlefield, in the bed of his lover, he's a sight to behold. Arms to wield the sword that cleaves his enemies in half, legs to carry him from one encounter to the next, armor to leave him unscathed from battle, no one can compare to him. He is the swoon of every woman; No one exists who would pass up a night in his bed. He is the envy of every man; No one exists who could overcome him in battle.

Pink is the color of the passionate lover. Her beauty is unmatched; she is the dream of every man in the land. Though no man can resist, she is no harlot; she’s sensual, but only for one she loves. If you’re the one who owns her heart, she will own yours, the bond between them unable to break, to stand forever in time. You’ll find no lover as good as her, more loving, more trusting. No one is more compassionate than her; no one cares more about the hurt, the lonely, the sick, the suffering. She lives with an open heart, her soul laid bare for all to see. She is the tender lover, the one who will never leave your side.

Orange is the color of the playful joker. Never able to stand still, he is always active. Whether playing a prank, or telling a joke, he’s always grinning from ear to ear. He never takes life seriously, everything is a joke to him. When one is feeling down, all they need is to see him prance around before their frown lifts into a smile. No one is more playful than him; he is always having fun. Do not be mistaken, he has brains filling that void in his head, but instead of pursuing knowledge, he pursues the art of the greater laugh. Only a fool would not love him, never knowing an enemy, never knowing what it means to be hated.

Purple is the color of the wise ruler. Sophisticated, educated, he is in charge of all the land. No one is wealthier than he, living in luxury. He is not vain, he gives to the people. He is not foolish, he listens to the people. He does what they want, leading them with wisdom and knowledge. Mysterious though he is, the people follow him with fervor, trusting him as they would themselves. His is paradise, a rule filled with bliss.

Green is the color of the child of nature. Unaccustomed to life in the city, she was raised in the forest, fed at the breast by Mother Nature herself. When other children would go to school, she would be found with the birds, learning the mating call of nature. When city folk would go off to war, she would be found with the wolves, learning the thrill of the hunt. From every tree, every animal, every plant, Mother Nature watched over her child, protecting her from the suffering of humanity. Her world was the forest; nothing else seemed to exist to her.

Brown is the color of the child of earth. A miner by trade, he is one with the ground, with the soil, with the dirt. He tunnels deep into the earth, tenderly extracting the precious metals held within. He has known no other life, known not what it means to live in the sun, only how to live in the tunnels, in the dark. One may feel sorry for him, but they would be wrong to do so; he is never more content than when in the tunnels. He lives a simplistic life, relying on nothing more than what the earth can provide to live. No one is more reliable than he.

Yellow is the color of the child of humanity. His is an innocent soul, separated from the suffering and the hardship. He spends his days in the sun, running around, having fun. He stands at the corner watching people go by; nothing matters other than the sweet in his hand. He lays down on the grass, looking at the sky, watching the clouds dance on the stage above him. He has never known pain, being sheltered all his life, never once questioning his existence. A huge, toothy grin plastered on his face, he skips home, knowing he is safe.

Grey is the color of the child of captivity. Trapped in her existence, she flits from one task to the next, living out her life in servitude. Her dreams lay dashed on the floor, never to be fulfilled. Her tears lay on her pillow, as she cries herself to sleep. The crack of the whip, the gashes on her back, she has learned to not fight back. She has never known freedom, only knowing what it means to be chained, to be captive. As days go by, as years fade into the void, she longs for a shoulder to cry on, for a soul to love.

Blue is the color of the one who meditates. Unity is his only goal in life, living to attain true inner peace. He meditates every day, hours on end, learning the truths of the world. Up in the mountains lies his temple, perfect harmony, his dwelling place. He does not concern himself with the ways of the world, secluding himself in his shrine, kneeling on his mat to pray. He is one with God, with the Supreme Being, with his inner soul.

Black is the color of the one who seduces. Wherever there are heroes, there is a villain to oppose them. Gifted with unnatural beauty, no one, neither man nor woman, can resist her lethal embrace. She is the epitome of sexuality; nothing is more erotic, nothing is more irresistible. Her wings unfurled, she moves with such grace, her voice flowing with beauty, twisting the minds of mortal men. When she tempts you into her bed, there is no turning back. She will steal your heart, take your soul, own you forever.

White is the color of the one who saves. He is the symbol of unity, the power of the colors in one being. He is the armor that protects the land, the sword that strikes down evil, the shield that bears its crest. He is the God of blue, the friend of orange, the father of yellow, the lover of pink, the bane of black. He is the commander of red, the protector of green, the companion of brown, the mentor of purple, the savior of grey. He is all, and all is him.

Everything is made from white, everything is absorbed by black, An endless cycle, repeating throughout time. This is the story of one cycle, the story of how black tempted the colors, the story of how white came and saved them, the story of how white struck down black. This is the story of tragedy, the story of discovery, the story of triumph. Read on, and take heart, for when black threatens to absorb all, white is there to save us, to protect us.

The author's comments:
First off, I'm not entirely sure if this counts as poetry, but I personally consider it a long free verse poem. Second, this is actually the first part of a longer story I'm writing. My plan is to use the characters in this piece and write different stories about them, using various types of poetry in each chapter to tell the tale (ex. tongue twister and limerick for orange, palindrome for blue).

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