Words are colours
People paint. “I love you—“ “I hate you—“ “You’re so ugly, I’ll faint.” They think that those colours Will fade in a day, But what they don’t know Is that colours make paintings-- And murals— and worlds. Mutters turn to echoes That alter every hue, And manipulate the sunlight, And change the kind of blue That shimmers in the sky When you make someone cry. The world was made with words And still is being made. Tell the trees you love them; Encourage all the stones. Know your spoken kindness Invigorates your bones.
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Danielle GrisnichArtist and Purveyor of Endless Possibilities Archives
August 2022
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