The Color Black

Dark paths lead the road to brilliance, because even the stars have a black canvas. It is elegance and a chaotic mess all at once; it is arrogance and modesty in one. Black is the color of a tainted soul; mistreated and abused, but overflowing with wisdom of what one has endured in our bizarre society. Black is death; where one life ends, distressing those it holds dear. But black is not a sad color it is poetic; where bright colors are empty and full of nothing. Black holds the soul’s dearest prizes. It is the color of night, where billions of stars dot the sky and light it up beautifully because that’s what black is beauty.

It is not depressing or disturbing or offensive; black is a happy color where my own heart swells at the sight of. It is associated with fear of the unknown, but it is the color of power and evil—but it is also mystery and sophistication. I think in black, with shades of grey scribbling down my jumbled up thoughts. It is the absence of all colors, because black itself holds power above all else.

            In the words of Morticia Addams—“Black is such a happy color, darling!”