Shadows of desire
color the hues of our lives.

"I want this."
"I need that."

With each desire
a different color
appears in mind.

Some color themselves
in ruddy shades of passion
Others with purple tints of nobility
Many color themselves with gold or silver
And a few with the darkness of ennui.

Can we ever be free from color
as lucent, transparent beings?

If we still our desires
do we become (as Blake suggests)
mere shadows
of a former being?