Black : The Charcoal Whisper
In the stillness of charcoal, where darkness speaks,
A quiet dialogue between shadow and light seeks.
A hue so deep, it swallows time,
Yet, in its silence, there’s a rhythm, a rhyme.
It’s not the absence of color, but the embrace of depth,
A journey within, where the soul finds breath.
Charcoal, the bridge from night to day,
Where thoughts settle, and the mind can play.
Like a canvas, untouched and serene,
It whispers to artists, what might have been.
In strokes of gray, in whispers of black,
It tells stories of paths we may never track.
What is color, if not emotion’s skin?
And what is charcoal, if not where we begin?
It is in the quiet, the undefined space,
Where the heart finds room, and the soul finds grace.
It is the place where contradictions meet,
Where boldness and subtlety find their seat.
In charcoal, the contrast is true—
The space between nothing, and everything we knew.
Like life, it’s neither dark nor light,
But the blending, the meeting, the infinite flight.
A journey inward, a path untold,
Charcoal reminds us to be brave and bold.
It is the color of thoughts unspoken,
Of lives half-lived, and dreams unbroken.
A quiet force, where the mind takes pause,
In the depths of charcoal, we discover our cause.
So here we stand, on this edge of night,
Where charcoal whispers, and gives us light.
In its depths, we find what we seek—
The art of balance, the power to speak.
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