Adrião, this is such a generous way to sit with it. Thank you.
I’m really drawn to how you describe it as “sensing something before you can explain it.” That’s very much where it was written from. Not trying to define blue, just staying with the mood of it until language caught up — or almost caught up.
I like what you said about the road and engine understanding us. That wasn’t something I set out to do consciously, but I do think long drives have a way of loosening the grip of thought. Things settle into the body before they form into sentences.
And yes — some colours don’t want to be seen. Some feelings are like that too. They’re not asking to be analysed, just acknowledged.
I’m glad it felt like a quiet presence to you. That’s exactly the kind of company I hoped it might be.
This is beautiful. It feels like a quiet moment on a long drive. No radio. Just the hum or the car meeting the road and a cloudless sky everywhere you look.
A lovely moment. The kind you don't want to overthink when they happen, but can gladly write about later, perhaps when the blue has faded to a starlit dark, after your desitiation has been reached.
Mark, your poem is a profound meditation on perception and experience. It reminds us that some colors, some moments, and some truths exist not to be named or fully understood, but to be felt deeply within us. The way you capture “blue” as a depth, a sound, a presence beyond sight, speaks to the quiet, often invisible ways life shapes our understanding before our minds can even catch up. It’s a beautiful invitation to slow down, to sense the world through the body and soul, and to honor the feelings that precede thought. Truly inspiring.
Thank you Dawnithic. That’s such a thoughtful reflection.
I love the way you phrase it: “to honour the feelings that precede thought.” That’s very close to what I was circling, even if I didn’t have the language for it at the time.
I wasn’t trying to explain blue so much as stay with it — before it settles into category, before it becomes something tidy. There’s something about those moments, as you say, that shape us quietly, long before the mind arrives with labels.
I’m really glad it resonated with you in that way. That’s more than enough.
So, since blue is a starting point for forming other colors, in your poem it’s used to help me understand a dynamic. I like that you return to the idea that thought comes after perception. After all, what more beautiful road can there be for two, if not the one accompanied by the color blue?
Phoeby, I love that you picked up on blue as a starting point. I hadn’t consciously thought about it as the origin of other colours, but that idea fits beautifully — blue as a base note everything else leans on.
And yes, the thought-after-perception thread is probably the spine of it. I’m fascinated by how often the body knows before the mind catches up. The road, in that sense, isn’t just movement — it’s companionship with something we don’t fully understand yet.
Your last line made me smile. There’s something quietly hopeful in that image — a road for two, carried by blue. Not dramatic. Just steady.
Mark this was utterly memorizing to read. "not all colours are born
spoke the wind not all shades exist it whispers" & "not all blues want seeing
said the road some are only felt at speed" really stood out to me. This poem actually felt like when you are listening to a song that feels so nostalgic while you are driving down a long road. That feeling if that makes sense. And the picture just pulls it all together!
The poem feels like one of those moments when you sense something before you can explain it.
It treats blue the way we treat certain moods that arrive quietly and settle in the body.
There’s something comforting in how the road, the wind, even the engine seem to understand us.
Reading it feels like being inside a long drive where thoughts loosen and drift.
The language moves slowly, like someone watching the world pass by without rushing.
It captures that strange peace of travelling with no real destination in mind.
The idea that some colours don’t want to be seen feels deeply relatable some feelings are like that too.
There’s a soft ache in the way distance deepens instead of widening.
The poem trusts the reader to feel the spaces between the lines, not just the words.
By the end, blue feels less like a colour and more like a quiet presence riding along with us.
Adrião, this is such a generous way to sit with it. Thank you.
I’m really drawn to how you describe it as “sensing something before you can explain it.” That’s very much where it was written from. Not trying to define blue, just staying with the mood of it until language caught up — or almost caught up.
I like what you said about the road and engine understanding us. That wasn’t something I set out to do consciously, but I do think long drives have a way of loosening the grip of thought. Things settle into the body before they form into sentences.
And yes — some colours don’t want to be seen. Some feelings are like that too. They’re not asking to be analysed, just acknowledged.
I’m glad it felt like a quiet presence to you. That’s exactly the kind of company I hoped it might be.
Excellent, Mark.
Thank you Sara! 💙
What a gorgeously beautiful blue painting 👌💌
This is beautiful. It feels like a quiet moment on a long drive. No radio. Just the hum or the car meeting the road and a cloudless sky everywhere you look.
A lovely moment. The kind you don't want to overthink when they happen, but can gladly write about later, perhaps when the blue has faded to a starlit dark, after your desitiation has been reached.
Thank you @Words about things and stuff!
Those moments of the long driev, just a road and sky ahead, was the moment I was trying to capture — really pleased it came through for you.
😊
I’ve driven across the country twice. This reminded me of some very open stretches of road.
I love how its shades sneak in as I read... unamed yet known.. beautiful and soothing ✨️
Thank you so much mirage 💛 🫶 💛
I really liked the feel of the piece. Written in such a way that you feel pulled inside of it.
Thanks Gary! 😊
okay this is actually amazing. the whole “blue wasn’t a colour yet, it was a depth” line grabbed me immediately. such a cool vibe.
Thanks Tsetsy!
Mark, your poem is a profound meditation on perception and experience. It reminds us that some colors, some moments, and some truths exist not to be named or fully understood, but to be felt deeply within us. The way you capture “blue” as a depth, a sound, a presence beyond sight, speaks to the quiet, often invisible ways life shapes our understanding before our minds can even catch up. It’s a beautiful invitation to slow down, to sense the world through the body and soul, and to honor the feelings that precede thought. Truly inspiring.
Thank you Dawnithic. That’s such a thoughtful reflection.
I love the way you phrase it: “to honour the feelings that precede thought.” That’s very close to what I was circling, even if I didn’t have the language for it at the time.
I wasn’t trying to explain blue so much as stay with it — before it settles into category, before it becomes something tidy. There’s something about those moments, as you say, that shape us quietly, long before the mind arrives with labels.
I’m really glad it resonated with you in that way. That’s more than enough.
Thank you brother!
💛 🫶 💛
Thanks for your compliment.❤💛❤
Blue is always as beautiful as the sky and the sea 🫶🫶🫶
It is Marwa! 🌻 💙 🌻
This felt like driving through a thought before it becomes language. Like standing inside a color before it decides to introduce itself.
Beautifully said Belindra. Standing inside a colour is such a wonderful image.
Than you 😊
This is more than a color. Unnamed but known. Some aren't seen.
I don't know what, but I know that.
Thank you HVR 😊
So, since blue is a starting point for forming other colors, in your poem it’s used to help me understand a dynamic. I like that you return to the idea that thought comes after perception. After all, what more beautiful road can there be for two, if not the one accompanied by the color blue?
Phoeby, I love that you picked up on blue as a starting point. I hadn’t consciously thought about it as the origin of other colours, but that idea fits beautifully — blue as a base note everything else leans on.
And yes, the thought-after-perception thread is probably the spine of it. I’m fascinated by how often the body knows before the mind catches up. The road, in that sense, isn’t just movement — it’s companionship with something we don’t fully understand yet.
Your last line made me smile. There’s something quietly hopeful in that image — a road for two, carried by blue. Not dramatic. Just steady.
Thank you for reading it that way.💙 🤗 💙
True blue 💙🩵
Thanks you Zee 💙
Blue is a world of blues 💎🦋🩵💙
And you have so many blues, I'm impressed!
Thank you 🙏
I have so many more 💎
Mark this was utterly memorizing to read. "not all colours are born
spoke the wind not all shades exist it whispers" & "not all blues want seeing
said the road some are only felt at speed" really stood out to me. This poem actually felt like when you are listening to a song that feels so nostalgic while you are driving down a long road. That feeling if that makes sense. And the picture just pulls it all together!