Nothing is definitive.
Or so I tell my daughter
whose color palette tends to
black and white.
Black and white, I tell her, are
always merging to create
different shades of gray.
Light and shadow also play
their parts, I tell her, but she
has the certainty of youth
on her side and an artist’s
eye. While maturity has
taught me the useful art of
accommodation, to gently
blend one shade into another,
she works in bold contrasts and
sharp edges telling me that
there are absolutes: black is
black and white is white regardless
of the time or circumstance.
What she says is true, of course.
But there is one other
absolute to consider:
Nothing is definitive.
Or so I tell my daughter.
Not even death.
Divine Overtones 