Puddle of Paint

I am but a puddle of paint...

Azure, emerald, golden, blinding,
Infinite, vibrant, warm colors are me layed
Silently upon the earth.

Security, self is mine as I am here
Undisturbed as my puddle upon the earth.

I never asked for the rain, the madness to come,
To pour down upon me and cause me to forget
Where I once was.

I never asked to change shape, to conform
To the world, to splash and find myself
Segregated from the security I once felt in
My puddle upon the earth. My colors are splattered.
I am desecrated.

But now I am not alone....

My colors may have splattered,
Landed out of reach,
Faded into stone,
But I am not alone.
Fluid flowing through these stricken veins,
Rain is alive in me.
Rain blends with my once vibrant colors
And have balanced my tint of being.

What a transformed puddle am I.
I am shaded, tinted, yet not as distant
From my true colors as my fallible
Soul had thought.

I am shaded,
But more beautiful for infinity.