He Had Always Chosen White Poem by RIC BASTASA

he had always chosen
white, then shades of white,
then gray, then the shades of gray,
paler, and then
like the rest, you get into a black pit,
you fall,
lost into the blackness of
bleak,
somewhere there is reason
for this,
you watch, how day turns to night
how night turns to day,
how things work
how people come and go,
how colors mix, how white gets stained,
how leaves learn
what spring is what autumn is
how cold is winter
how exciting is summer.
it is the seasons my dear,
just the seasons,
and right or wrong has nothing
to do with all these
changes.