And regarding the blue. The cloudless sky, the deep seas. The shades. The blue eyes that stare unknowingly. Dumbly, sadly. Unaware of their insight, unaware of their accessible knowledge, distracted by vanity and mirrors. The reflective properties of the operation, creating illusions and disappearances. Invisible to airplanes and drones and telescopes. No naked eye has a chance, regardless of color. Even ambervision is a lie. Our electronics are inferior, only imagination and art can come close to the truth. And the Word, of course, which speaks of being swept up into skies. The major and minor prophets told of all this. Centuries prior. That is the truth of it.
Then the moods. The blue tones and tunes. The blue notes, and Birdland. Miles. Noise is the opposite of music. The contrast of silence and breaks. Even within a duo, a trio, four, or more. Each instrument and voice can be separate and one at the same time, adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing. The math is exponential, it has grown beyond the squares. Angles of light and geometry, changing the blue.
First, the Navy arrives. Regal and stoic, like the aristocrats. The royals actually follow, lighter, flashier. The Caribbean has its own color, leisurly and indescribable. Powder is next, smooth like silk. Soft. Wait patiently for midnight my dear, the color of space.
While Joni Mitchell's coyote howls, the thunder rolls. She is blue no longer.