A colorless world,
no taste,
no smell.

But a woman,
bowed by age,
has kept
a dancing flame.

You are told
it is the flame of color,
an evil thing.
Harsh to the eye and mind.

But when you visit
the childless crone,
to see if the rumors
are true,

you see only beauty
as the old woman
leers at you,
her toothless mouth
telling you
stories of another time
as she holds the flame
of rainbows
in her hand.

She offers it to you.
You take it,
hands trembling.

You have been given
a great burden
to bear.

To nourish the flame.
For all things die,
the old woman says,
and it is past
her time.

But the flame
is to be eternal.
It is for you
to use,
to protect
from hate and small minds.

The colors from the flame
dance
unrestrained,
in your eyes,
your creativity
feeds it.

As the hope
of a world gone
is passed to you
a member
of a younger generation
who is to bring color
back into the world.