the night before i go to college

I sat with the eighth wonder and pondered upon what my biggest wander might gift me with. My canvas, painted black with white specks left me in a period of waiting. Similar to the period of mourning that takes place when a president dies and we lower the flags at half staff. Except, I wasn’t mourning. I was setting a prayer for the world around me; I was humming the tune of the song my people have yet to sing but when they hear it they will know I have called them home. They laughed at me and taunted me for believing that something so dark could be so radiant. And how something so fluffy and petite could be so poised in her thoughts. So I prayed. And it wasn’t a Hail Mary. Because the fruit of thy womb has always beheld at the blood of our labor. They thought with their perception of the radiance of the picture that I would have something paralleling the colors of art. But all that there is is darkness until the start.