Lack of Color?

I am the night sky,

all-consuming and heavy.

I am the oil in your car,

the rubber of your tires,

essential and necessary for motion.

I am the dreadlocks of a black mother,

the worn hands of a black father home from work,

the ink of the Founding Father's pen,

the dilated pupils of a hopeful black boy,

Obama's black hair before we wore him grey.

I am the very bedrock on which any great nation is built.

I am not the absence of color,

for I have absorbed them all.

I am not jealous of the other colors,

although I am not in the rainbow.

I am not jealous of fire,

for no matter, how bright the flames glow,

the fire will die and ashes to ashes it will go.

I am the shadow that follows you all your life,

surely following in step right behind you.

I am the slender stripes on the back of the sleek tiger,

the stripes on the zebra,

I am the primed, and powerful panther,

ready to pounce.

Creased, Midnight, Obsidian, Patent Leather shoes

the moonwalking penny loafers of a King.

I am the revolver hidden at your bedside

and the bible beside it.

The blackened cancerous lung of a smoker,

and the x-ray used to diagnose it.

BB King's Lucille, Johnny Cash's guitar.

I am the finest caviar.

I am not at all jealous of the light,

for it too has its time.

I am not jealous of the light,

because those who fear my darkness find comfort in me in the night time.

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