Green?
Last night I was flying–
dreaming state, dipping through valleys,
playing with the fates–
when I ran across a woman
standing clad in white.
She said one word.
Green.
Then faded into the night.
I yelled after her.
What do you mean, green?
Shouted it through the warm air
like she owed me an explanation.
And I pondered.
Did she mean money?
The cold cash that governs everything,
keeps us all scrambling
to avoid the crash?
Or the leaves on the trees–
the ones I stare at
when my thoughts drift away.
Nature running through my veins,
violated and patient,
waiting to return the favor
with an end we can’t dodge.
Maybe green meant go.
Time to move, leave the past behind.
Or maybe it was the merging
of daylight and night–
yellow sun and midnight blue
blending into something new.
Dark and light fused into one.
Our souls, formed that way.
Or envy. The green-eyed monster,
lurking, waiting for me
to drop my guard
and let jealousy burn the house down.
Then she came back.
Cloth in her hand.
Looked at me with sincerity
and chuckled softly
before handing it over
and walking away.
All your thoughts are misguided, she said.
Every single one.
You overthink things,
my complex dreaming friend.
The answers are simple
if you’d just let your thoughts end.
When you fell asleep,
what was on your mind?
I’m just your subconscious
giving you the answer
you were looking for.
So I thought back.
Before sleep. Before the dream.
Looked down at the cloth in my hand,
traced my way to the beginning.
And a laugh filled my soul
as the last piece fell into place.
The question was never
why do I hurt.
I just wondered
what color was my shirt.