Senses imbue life's aromas

daubing, or etching them

onto the palettes of our gentle soul

bright, pastel, opaque, dark

love, excitement, fear, and hate

will they linger

resting there for peaceful reference

or boil in ferocity

to render judgements of haste

volatile protests

we'll later view with disdain

will dissonance continually rein

or will we insist the palette

be washed quite clean

so that what we glean

is truth colored in the wisdom of light

for painting in the darkness of misconception

never reveals

what a kind heart feels