for some reason this won’t paragraph. imagine an extra space every four lines… x
Indigo would have been Hamlet’s favourite colour.
Indigo is the colour of the crossroad.
It’s the colour of the threshold,
It’s the colour of in-between.
The crossroads is the place at which we find ourselves.
The crossroad is where the ideas intersect
It’s where horizontal meets vertical
It’s where flesh and spirit meet.
The intellect meets the imagination.
The numbers meet the letters
The cross spirals into a circle
Like a fan moving at full speed.
The juncture is a place that is hard to define
The juncture is not angled, round nor black nor white.
Its fishmongers meeting soliloquies
And frivolity meeting syllogisms.
I tried to write a syllogism
But I could not conform to the pattern
And for a moment I thought ‘stop trying to control me!’
And wished my skin would just… melt.
Oh dear. This matter cannot be understood.
It is like wheels within wheels etc.
The wheel has come full circle.
The spiralling fan has slowed down.