by Sparks In Shadow
Through particulate waste sent aloft, long rays from our star transform pale translucent sky, making blush and fire in the feathers there – lavender here, where my eyes linger. Where thicker vapor traps light, grayer shadows lie in strata echoing the sadness in the sky that sparks this. But I see sculpture, think in paint, want this to be beautiful, so it is.
Written down in colory words, my record, in fear of brushes that change what I see into wanting images that won’t inspire, fails, but in a descending glint not unlike the pastel sunsets born from my city’s mistakes.
The prompt was my fixation on the lavender in my view of a sunset through a train window.