Amazing the sights I see from here, Under the Rainbow.

Day or night, I know it's there. It's colors, the glisten and glitter. I can feel it, sometimes, many times, I desire it. Longing or lusting, I don't know which. I have to fight myself sometimes it seems, just wanting so much to be. To be one of the colors.

I'm told to be myself, to be content. It doesn't work. Not to be part of the Rainbow.

But this I have found. Maybe a fantasy. Maybe a dream.

From Under the Rainbow, if I stop. Stop looking up. Stop wishing to be what I am not. I have seen, here, around me.

Like blades of grass they shoot up. More numerous than the colors of the Rainbow. There are some. There are more. They are not colors. They are themselves.

Like me? No. Like me? Yes. They are who they are, but they too are looking up, and longing. Some have looked down and their gaze has honored me. I see one like me. No two. No more.

We cannot be, not the colors of the Rainbow. We are not as they. Individuals they call us. Some oddities, some left out, and to the shame of the Rainbow, some cast out.

Can we aspire to fit as the colors do, to blend and glisten and glow. Our reality says no. In this lies the answer. One possible future. I don't know. Maybe a fantasy, maybe a dream.

We cannot be, not them. But we are. I will not scream it out. I will not make them know. I will not shake them until they gain some sense. The do not wake, not easily.

We are, a color of our own. Red cannot be green. Blue cannot be yellow. We are not they, but we are. We now have taken a step. A hand reached out and I took it. Another followed. I feel their pain and they mine.

Can we be, not one of the colors, but maybe. Maybe it's a fantasy, maybe a dream, but can we be, our color in the Rainbow.

Or is it our place? Is it our Lot? I cannot accept it. I may not know my place, but I cannot accept I have no place.

This I know, I have discovered. A friend. A second. Maybe more.

I found them here,

Under the Rainbow