Soil

They told me all was shit. The excrement wiped on walls in the late at night as their weapons, disguised like birds, invaded the quiet space and made a hell out of a refuge. The walls, the bed, made of neutral earthy ground, slandered until they resembled the waste of our bodies. But all of this was a lie, simple and dangerous. And in meditation I found that brown is beautiful. It is not the color of human waste. It is the soil from which life comes, the water and ocean combining to make new life, and in this I planted a garden, a glowing field that will always remain in my mind, and gave me the strength of the day. The soil from these foundations will never be forgotten, and I reached my hand into the mud to find the earliest form of the lotus of the mind, expanding infinitely into the universe. Black is beautiful. Brown is beautiful. Let’s not let these colors be coded in cruelty, but the color of the foundation of nature itself. I plant the seeds tonight, here in the brown earth, the mother of the flowers around us. And to here, we will return. What dreams to our souls and minds take forth as we pass into the unknown. I’m no philosopher, my conscious tells me, but in that rainbow of possibility all the colors expand, and we can never forget the soil from whence they spring.

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