THE COLORS RAN

Every time she closed her eyes
She felt herself dissolving
In the dream, she sank so deep
That all would be forgotten

Land can slip, and moments drift
So far from any shore
She rested, now, her heavy head
Upon the seabed floor

The holy dove, alone in her search
Flies into the wind
As her memories return of the waking world
She cannot find her wings

Never far from slipping
She felt herself drifting
Into dead oceans of gray
In deserts swept under the ocean
She trespassed the ancient graves

No priest could heal her
No doctor, relieve her
She painted the pictures she saw
She saw golden dragons and indigo oceans
Colors ran down her arms

The pictures, they kept her together
She searched for them endlessly
There's an undertow in the waking world
That sweeps all the color away

She painted with words as a witness
To watch what is hollow take form
Her soul, it was born from the water
Her body swept up by the storm

In oceans of gray
She waits for these moments
When light drops down into the sea
The colors running down her arms
She paints everything that she sees

She goes to these places of darkness
To search for the things that will be
The holy dove sings in the darkness
Still searching endlessly.