The Color Black by S. K. Brown

To some I am but a nothing. To others I am emptiness quietly waiting their fall. I am the calm before and after the storm. I consume memories from an old man’s mind. I wait in purgatory with the oranges and yellows of fire. I cover demons and saints. I overcome the sick, in the very last stage of death when the light fades. I lurk in the back of the mind, the creator of empty thoughts. I overtake some, others I leave be. I am a restless anger without the redness. I am not who lurks in the shadows. I am the shadow. I am the terror that has no face. I help feed the darkest and most secret desires. I am darkness.

I am soothing after a long day’s work. I am beauty alone. I fill the nighttime sky, allowing bits of colors here and there. I hold the secrets of the deep ocean floor. I was the first before anything else existed. I exist not only here; I exist everywhere, beyond time itself. I am in every living soul’s eyes, which lead to their soul. I am placed with pride in art, literature, and music. I am the bite of pepper and the sweetness of chocolate. I am the ink used to write masterpieces. I am the exquisite, shinning beauty of the sports car. I am the sweat and muscle of the quarter horse. I go great with everything, minus the brown. I am only the color black.