The Canvas of my Life

It’s like the Light -
A fashionless Delight -
It’s like the Bee -
A dateless - Melody -

It’s like the Woods -
Private - Like the Breeze -
Phraseless - yet it stirs
The proudest Trees -

It’s like the Morning -
Best - when it’s done -
And the Everlasting Clocks -
Chime - Noon!

- It’s Like the Light by Emily Dickinson

My life has the color yellow like the bright and blazing sun; that which radiates light and vigor. My life has the color orange like a blooming marigold; that which gives its songs to the bumblebees. It has the color light green like that of a freshly cut grass; that which gives shelter to the soft morning dew. It has the color light blue like the bold and beautiful sky; that which stretches its hand across the whole horizon like an envelope of comfort. It has the color white like the beautiful lily; that which gives solemnity and tranquility to the mind. It has the color misty gray like that of the mighty mountains; that which gives peace to the soul. It has the color red like that of a blossoming rose; that which gives color to those beautiful cheek.

We knew that land once, You and I,
and once we wandered there
in the long days now long gone by,
a dark child and a fair.
Was it on the paths of firelight thought
in winter cold and white,
or in the blue-spun twilit hours
of little early tucked-up beds
in drowsy summer night,
that you and I in Sleep went down
to meet each other there,
your dark hair on your white nightgown
and mine was tangled fair?

But side by side a little pair
with heads together, mingled hair,
went walking to and fro
still hand in hand; and what they said,
ere Waking far apart them led,
that only we now know.  

- The Little House of Lost Play by J.R.R. Tolkien

My life has the color silver like that of shimmering blade; that which cuts deep down inside. My life has the color blue like that of a burning flame; that which devours the happiness of a dented soul. It has the color orange like that of mighty volcano; that which burns the shreds of a visible life. It has the color pale yellow like that of a viper’s venom; that which scorches the soul of a human kind. It has the color red like the devils soul; that which lights the fire of vengeance inside. It has the color black like that of a tainted soul; that which invokes the scorn of a broken mind.

I lost a World - the other day!
Has Anybody found?
You'll know it by the Row of Stars
Around its forehead bound.

A Rich man - might not notice it -
Yet - to my frugal Eye,
Of more Esteem than Ducats -
Oh find it - Sir - for me!

- I lost a World - the other day! by Emily Dickinson

My life has the color gray like that of a misty winter morning; that which makes my face look so pale. My life has the color white like that of the cold snow; that which gives color to death. It has the color black like that of dark night; that which takes the light away. It has the color crimson like that of a broken rusty string; that which has lost its music behind. It has the color violet like the deciduous rhododendrons; that which breaks and thusly fades. Or perhaps is has no color at all, like the chilly winds; that which shrivels the soul away.

In dreams I crossed a barren land,
A land of ruin, far away;
Around me hung on every hand
A deathful stillness of decay;
And silent, as in bleak dismay
That song should thus forsaken be,
On that forgotten ground there lay
The broken flutes of Arcady. 

- Ballad of Broken Flutes by Edwin Arlington Robinson

But then again, perhaps it is as Henry David Thoreau says, “Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.”