Any colors that nature,
someway, can produce,
intrigue me. I like the neon,
the pastel,
the rediculous,
the absurd.
It's common knowledge
that the brighter the color
the more the danger.
The more the draw to
play with it, as
moths play with the flame.
Take some charcoal. Black
lumps, sitting there. Set
them aflame. Orange
licking,
changing to gray,
to ash.
Take a stick,
a stray piece of bark.
Dip it lovingly
into the flames that still
lap at the charcoal.
Watch the neon orange slowly
run it's way down the length,
growing brighter in
the oncoming wind.
Turn, and shelter
this creeping color,
and it slowly dies. Play
with it in the wind once more,
and here it comes, faithfully back,
just as bright as ever.
The heat of fire, while nice,
is secondary.
The true love comes from
flying shapes,
morphing constantly,
and the amazing interplay
or oranges, reds, and blues,
all in shades of neon.

02/05/2002

Posted on 02/05/2002
Copyright © 2024 David Neubauer