a vestige of thought...

I wrote this sometime at WBLT co-op in 8th grade when I wasn't paying attention (which was fairly often). My drama/biology notebook was filled with random writings like this.

It is said that silence is golden, but I disagree. I think silence is green, or maybe blue: the colors of nature. God gave His creation the most beautiful silence. In this silence, I become more aware of myself. When my ears aren't strained, my other senses come alive, and my imagination is free to fill in the right music. My eyes see the cerulean sky dusted with cirrus clouds and in my mind a simple violin melody begins. Looking at the still water of a lake, I hear a harp. The smell of wildflowers and freshly cut grass brings to mind a happy piano tune, and the feel of the wind in my hair is my Shepherd's gentle love song. As the setting sun spills watercolors across the heavens, I can hear 'Taps' as clearly as though the trumpeter were standing next to me.
Maybe silence isn't any color after all. Maybe it is like pure light: at first glance it is blank and clear, but if looked at the right way, the entire spectrum is revealed.