I think and often imagine
Even in scorched dreams
Myself and life as it seems;
As it seems, seems, seems.
I have a tenuous grip on reality
A self-made functional mode.
I think I have some aspects of alterity;
I can think in colours unrefined.
Pastel, refined, softspoken,
Colours that were not mine;
I can speak in languages
That are often tough and fine.
I can think in pastel
Speak in pastel and subdued
My life, often in colours bright
To this has now been reduced.
I have a life in pastel but inside
I have emotion bright and strong
I can think in pastel but emotion
Remains vivid and lifelong.
Life, filaments of life, in muted hues,
Is thus what it amounts to:
Live softly, there is yet a vivid dream
That I am driven to pursue