09/27/2025
Production of the Poetic Knight
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She of Colors
She of colors,
danced upon another plane of fable and purity—
one with nature,
her whispers carried by leaves,
her silence sung by the wind.
Under the harvest moon, they gather unseen—
not merely to dance,
but to marvel at her gift:
the power of enchantment,
the spell of hues.
Burgundy, crimson, and ember-orange—
leaves surrender their green,
falling like blessings upon the earth.
Her waltz in October
is a hymn to the dying sun.
The animals watch,
faerfolk hum their secret songs,
elves weave garlands from twilight,
and tulip-bells ring in hidden groves.
The wee ones march, laughing in spells of color,
as if dawn itself were caught in their hands.
From leaf to tree,
from tree to leaf—
a touch, a whisper,
a fading green undone.
I wandered from the world of men,
crossing the veil
to witness beauty and banish sorrow,
to drink from the chalice of her wonder,
to breathe the smoke of wizard’s fires
and walk among mushroom thrones.
There, I beheld the dance—
colors shimmering like prophecy,
a golden rust, a peach aflame,
a world where tragedy dissolves.
It is said:
when the world of man divides,
only those with faith unbroken
shall fight for sea, for flame,
for the magic of love
born from her dance.
Dream a dream—
for dreams are the roots of belief.
The colors of autumn are no mere season,
but the heartbeat of magic
that sleeps in trees.
This I bear witness:
She of colors,
and the chosen who follow her—
summer’s fire,
autumn’s soul,
spirits of the frozen.
Some whisper the dead walk among the trees,
their shadows entwined with branches.
Go forth,
bear witness as I have—
though truth slipped upon my tongue
and dissolved in visions.
When it came, I loved it all,
as I love strangers
like brothers,
like echoes of forgotten kin.
She of colors.
—Written by Knight of the Pen – 2"
© She of Colors
Art: Unknown
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