Etude #4
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I worry...not grey newspaper worries, green worries of sickness. Blue worries of fear. White worries of nothingness...death is a white void, parts of a whole of nothing.
My greatest fear is to see only white...to die, and become trapped in the frenzy of white!
Black has depth...behind my eyes, shut off from the earth, black means I still see.
I cannot see shadows. I cannot imagine my own demise...
Nothing, not black nor the emptiness of the blood between my ears.
Nothing stands in a dream, a dream where I am paralyzed and know that I am dead.
Then I flutter my eyes, I lash out with my arms!
I move.
White.
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