There are colors we can’t see

Hidden behind the veil of light,
Beyond the blue of the deepest sea,
Beyond the day, beyond the night.
In this vast, unspoken hue,
Where silence whispers what’s concealed,
Lies a world we never knew,
A truth that’s yearning to be revealed.

The Silent Spectrum

Beneath the reddened autumn leaf,
There are whispers of a shade unknown,
A spectrum wrapped in quiet grief,
In shadows where the wind has blown.
The trees, they hum of violet dreams,
Of colors that dance in between,
In wavelengths we can never glean,
Yet in our souls, they faintly gleam.
The sky at dawn—orange, gold—
Yet hides a pulse of unseen grace,
A spectrum neither young nor old,
A hue that wears no earthly face.
What if the stars we think we know
Are drenched in shades of nameless fire?
And every flicker, every glow,
Holds colors of a deep desire?

In the Garden of the Unseen

I wander through a garden still,
Where roses bloom in spectral form,
Their petals caught in light’s own will,
In hues that never feel the storm.
The lavender hums a deeper tone,
Not purple, not quite gray,
But something more, a color grown
In silence where the shadows play.
The tulips bow, their heads in trance,
Their colors woven into mist,
And in their petals, soft as chance,
Lies the touch of what we missed.
What lies beneath the green, the red?
What breathes beneath the flowers’ glow?
A shade that sleeps where dreams are bred,
A tint we’re not yet meant to know.

Eyes Closed, Hearts Open

There are colors felt, but never seen,
Like love that lingers on the air,
Like memories of what has been,
A vividness we cannot wear.
In lovers’ arms, entwined in grace,
The world is bathed in shades of trust,
Yet somewhere, in that sacred space,
There blooms a color made of dust.
The way you touched my hand last night—
A brush of warmth, a silent plea—
It echoed in a shade of light
That only lived inside of me.
Is there a color for our pain?
A tint for sorrow’s sharpest sting?
Or are we simply bound in chains
To shades that light cannot yet bring?

Echoes of the Infinite

And what of death, that final shade,
The curtain drawn on life’s long play?
Is it a color softly laid,
Or one that swiftly slips away?
They say the eyes close at the end,
Yet what if there’s a final hue,
One the heart could not comprehend,
A color neither dark nor blue?
Perhaps the soul, when freed from flesh,
Sees what the body never could—
A universe in shades so fresh,
So bright, yet never understood.
In death, we glimpse the unseen thread
That binds the earth to stars above,
In hues of all that’s left unsaid,
In colors made of endless love.

The Pulse of Mystery

Between the spaces of our thought,
Where silence takes its deepest breath,
The colors pulse in rhythms caught
Between our life and certain death.
We search for meaning in the skies,
For what lies past the known, the seen,
But somewhere deep within our eyes
There’s more than light—there’s in-between.
The brush of wind, the scent of rain,
These carry colors undefined,
Not in the world, but in
From threads that lie beyond the glance,
In whispered shades that dare to dance,
Within a world of silent chance.
The violets bloom in velvet dark,
Yet hold a hue beneath their fold,
A secret stain, a hidden spark,
That only quiet hearts behold.
These colors, strange and undefined,
Exist in corners of the mind,
Where light and shadow intertwine,
Where time and space themselves unwind.

The Color of Emotions

There are colors in the way we love,
In every word we fail to say,
In every tear, in every shove,
In all the quiet nights and days.
The color of a mother's care—
It isn’t yellow, red, or blue,
But something soft beyond compare,
A color lost in every hue.
The shade of grief, a muted tone,
A dull ache, not black or white,
But something felt when we're alone,
A silent tremor in the night.
What is the color of despair?
Is it the gray of morning rain?
Or something deeper, hiding there,
Beneath the surface of our pain?
And joy—does it come in gold and green?
Or in the burst of unseen light?
Perhaps it’s there in what’s between
The visible, the felt, the bright.

Beyond the Horizon

The horizon bends beneath the sun,
Its edges dipped in amber hues,
But further still, when day is done,
Are colors we will never choose.
Beyond the reach of tired eyes,
Beyond the touch of moonlit waves,
There are shades that fill the skies,
Like secrets kept in ocean caves.
The aurora dances in the north,
A spectacle of fiery gleam,
But what of all the lights brought forth
From wavelengths born beyond the dream?
The night itself, a velvet veil,
Is painted in a black unknown,
But deeper still, where stars grow pale,
Are colors never overthrown.
They shimmer in the cosmic dust,
In galaxies too far to see,
In the quiet glow of twilight's trust,
In every breath of mystery.

The Unseen Souls

And what of us, these souls we bear—
Are we not colors lost in flight?
With thoughts we neither name nor share,
With dreams that vanish in the night?
Is there a shade that marks our fear,
A color only we can feel,
A tone that echoes loud and clear
In moments when the world stands still?
The light inside a lover’s eyes,
Is it just brown, or blue, or green?
Or does it hold a shade that lies
In spaces only love has seen?
What color is the pain we hide?
The joy we wear when days are kind?
What shades of sorrow coincide
With every tear that stains the mind?
The hues of hope, the tones of trust—
Are they in colors we can name?
Or do they live in streams of dust,
In shades too fragile to reclaim?

Metaphors of Light

Light breaks upon the sea at dawn,
And paints the sky in muted gold,
But what if, once the light has gone,
A deeper story has been told?
Perhaps the light is just a veil,
A cover for the shades beneath,
A metaphor that cannot fail
To hide the truths we never breathe.
In every beam, a world unseen,
A spectrum of forgotten time,
A space where nothing is as clean
As colors marked by light’s own rhyme.
The metaphors, they wrap around
Our vision, leaving us half-blind,
For in the colors that abound,
Are hues we leave behind.

A Journey Inward

If we could dive into the space
Where all the unseen colors lie,
What would we find in that lost place,
Beneath the blue of empty sky?
Would we discover shades of thought,
Of dreams we never dared to chase,
Of memories that time forgot,
Of love’s unspoken grace?
Would we be filled with spectral light
That vibrates in a silent tone,
A color born from pure insight,
That leaves us never quite alone?
The journey inward takes its toll,
For in the depths of who we are,
We find the colors of the soul,
Each one a distant, nameless star.
The reds and greens of human sight
Are only fragments of the whole,
For in the void of endless night,
There lies the color of the soul.

The Final Light

And when the world at last grows dim,
When light itself begins to fade,
What colors wait beyond the rim,
What shades in death’s own quiet shade?
Perhaps it’s there we finally see
The colors that we’ve always missed,
In every drop of mystery,
In every kiss we never kissed.
The color of a final breath,
Of life itself grown soft and thin,
The quiet shade that follows death—
What lies beyond, what’s always been?
Is it a color rich and bright,
Or something softer, more obscure?
A hue beyond both dark and light,
A shade that feels both rich and pure?
Perhaps it’s there, in that last glow,
We’ll find the colors we once knew,
The shades we felt but couldn’t show,
The colors hiding in the blue.

The Colors We Become

And maybe we, like beams of light,
Are more than what we seem to be,
For in the spectrum of our flight,
There lies a deeper mystery.
We are the colors we can’t see,
The hues that bend and twist in air,
The shades of possibility
That shimmer, hidden everywhere.
In every thought, in every dream,
In every whispered, silent plea,
We are the colors in between—
The colors that we cannot see.
So as we walk through fields of green,
Or watch the sky turn dark with night,
Remember there are hues unseen,
That fill the world with endless light.
And when our journey’s reached its end,
And all the colors start to fade,
We’ll know the ones we can’t defend
Were never lost, just softly laid.

Epilogue: The Spectrum Within

The colors we can't see remain
Not just in light, but deep inside,
They course like rivers through our veins,
In places where our fears collide.
For in the heart, there is a hue,
A shade that words can’t quite define,
It’s neither red nor yellow, blue,
But something that’s completely mine.
It pulses with each thought we keep,
With every laugh, with every tear,
The colors in the places deep,
Are colors that we hold so dear.
And so, we end this spectral tale,
Of colors seen, of colors lost,
Of hues that in our lives prevail,
And shades we find at every cost.
The colors we can’t see are real,
As real as love, as real as grace,
They shimmer in the things we feel,
In every soul, in every space.
So when you look beyond the light,
Remember there is more to be,
For in the shadows of the night,
There are colors we can't see.