The hour of colors passes in the essence of desire. The touch of time calls on passage of seasons. If one thing you could give me, show me your layers of lights. What I could find in you is the blue of time. Call us the innocents. Call us the givers of love. Call us the healers of beings. Nothing makes sense but the time of hours. Nothing shines but the seconds of blue. Why should we go? Stay here with me in this moment. See me in your eyes of a child. I am in stillness for you and the white is what you see. Your touch is in the distance and how much we are now apart. The echo of blue brings us down once more. The mist wraps us up and I see only you. I am lost in the transmission of colors. I am lost in the hours of us. You are my colors. You are my time.