Gazing to the horizon
Warm yellow, inviting
Looking back on what had been deemed Wasteland
Trudged, heavy limbed, sore and heaving
Through the gray never ending vastness
Dust the only thing visible
Tripping on the jagged edges rising
One treacherous step at a time
Now I see
Colors
Vivid specks of pinks and greens, magenta and coral, blue and indigo
They were there all along
Simply in shadow
Gazing again toward the horizon
Between the edge and me
Seeing only gray
Stepping forward nonetheless
Determined to see past the obvious
Knowing that the colors are there
And the shadow is nothing to fear.
A Half Hour a Day 