Birth of Color

Before the darkness broke into day,
A somber sight was found.
The clouds were grey, everything grey,
No shadows anywhere around.
Colors were rarer than shooting stars,
A world of black and white.
Dark was all to see near and far,
Before morning triumphed over night.

It begins small, pinpoints of warmth,
The birth of the orb we call sun.
The green of the grass and the heat of the hearth,
And dew stains the stems of the lawn.
Night laughs at this trivial attempt for his domain,
By this force that we humans call light.

Though trees are like bars across my vision,
I can see the landscape made anew.
The lands awaken from slumber,
Reds and oranges and light sky blue.

Light and dark have since come to a truce,
With one rule that says it all.
The beautiful no-mans-land that brings us such joy;
Color doesn't touch the world before dawn.