There’s this beautiful silence that begins every word.

If I allow myself the time

to saturate in the words,

to marinate in the feeling,

I admit, my colors spin more vividly

on the page.

It’s as if I immerse my whole self, bodied, full

into the pool of language.

into the space of spaces,

open to the air.

Such is water-color and brush

Whole-heartedly dunked in hue.

but if such a moment happens,

that I lapse in concentration,

the color spills out of bounds

and onto unintended pages.

no longer vibrant, nor intentional.

but, sometimes,

I’m way happier.