In
skies of pale, a spectral arc appears,
A tale
untold, with whispers in the breeze,
The
rainbow veiled in monochrome veneers,
Its colors lost, concealed among the trees.
No
crimson hues, nor golden sunlit rays,
No
indigo to mark the twilight's end,
With
spectral absence, vibrant life decays,
A world devoid of shades, a somber blend.
Yet in
this desolate and muted span,
Hope
rises, like a spark within the gloom,
For
even without colours to command,
The soulful spirit finds its own sweet bloom.
In
grayscale world, new depths are found,
The
heart perceives, transcending earthly bounds,
Imagination
paints, a canvas unbound,
The rainbow thrives, with colors that resound.
In silent whispers of the winds, it's told,
The
beauty lies beyond what eyes can see,
For in
our minds, the colors do unfold,
The
rainbow's dance, in dreams, forever free.
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