Story #233

They were mocking and laughing. All of the seven colors were gathered around him, as if they were making a circle of loneliness, achiness and bitterness for him. He could barely retort back with a handful of unequivocal answers, the poor miserable White. A tornado of reproach was swirling around him. ” You are nothing!” Indigo nettled poor White. All of the seven colors of rainbow were assuaging themselves with the thought of their transitory striking beauty. They were proud of being a leading part of generating the dazzling rainbow collaboratively and pave the way for reconciliation with the proud sun and the intransigent rain which always were incongruous enemies. They were delighted of having power to embellish the nature of God. Yet, they knew nothing about the White. Maybe white was not a color, but he was the manifestation of the presence of all colors. They didn’t know. They all had a white deep down in their hearts. They were all born to be a white. Yet, they didn’t know…

– ZizO, Tehran