Black And White Poem by Randy McClave

I look up so I can see the color of the sky
And by its color I know if it's going to storm
But, unto that color should my senses always comply
Then why for me should the sky conform.

I too know the color of the water that we drink
If it's brown it's dirty and if it's clear it's clean
But that analyzation was taught to me from a kitchen sink
That is how I was learnt, so that is my own routine.

We all know the color of each other's skin
But, do we know the color of our own heart
By my color should I be hated or loved or judged for a sin
Or should I be painted and deemed as a work of art.

They say that the steps up to heaven they are painted gold
And that the steps into hell they are a fiery red
What is the true color of the evildoer and also that of the bold
Maybe GOD will show us, and maybe we all were mislead.

The lucky man is the man who cannot see or look
Whom is blind and colors are an illusion and a facade
Colors are stories he hears about, and also heard read from a book
Do we even know the color of our soul, or the color of GOD.

I look up at the sky at night and the sky it is pitch black
Except for the moon and stars which are a shimmering light
I would be happy being blind with my head covered with a sack
Colors or no colors, I think would rather see everything in black and white.

Randy L. McClave