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Black. Black is such a nice word in your many languages. The blackness of night, of a universe. So often black is looked upon as a negative when really it is all the colors in a universe combined. Contained. Trapped until parts are released with white.

The above picture is one I drew awhile ago as there was no choice, it had to be drawn. There is always something that needs to be said, to be drawn, to be felt…There is a name for such and the closest name would be, life. A black Womb surrounded by the contrast of white, it is magical, soothing, and is.

It is also inspirational for poetry. Write your own poem as you’re all poets and lucky to be who you are. You are white surrounded by blackness. Embrace the light. Embrace the black. And now, a monster writes a poem.

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Choices

Choices seem so easy when not knowing wrong from right. — To go up the steps of heaven or fall the slide to hell — reproducing what has already been created before —endless repetitions; human endeavors created after being created before.

Discover fire, to be burned and warmed by experience — Coldness sets teeth to chatter while sitting naked in the white snow — A child cries with training,  and always will, their will is what makes choices so easy when not knowing wrong from right.

Wombs of our own making. Our worlds. Our lives. Our choices — Painted by a brush with life and death — Thanks God for being our mother and allowing the colors of marriage, this struggle and marriage between black and white.