Never the Final Word (Vol. 2)

by FanOfMostEverything

elementAggregator's Golden Rule (Estee's "Yellow Immortality")

Author's Note:

[Dark][Poetry]

This is a response to Estee's Yellow Immortality (6,183 words, [Horror][Crossover][Random])

YELLOW IMMORTALITY SPOILERS: After cracking her head against a cave wall during a Bearer mission in a distant land, Fluttershy comes to in a very strange and very yellow hospital. Outside, there is nothing but void. Inside, the patients aren't cared for so much as preserved, whether they want it or not. And all of them, from the modular men to the aquatic rectangle to the spiky-haired child, are yellow. Fluttershy escapes this xanthic realm with the electrical aid of a rabbit-eared mouse and a green fluid imbued with the power of a dread pantheon. She then awakens from a two-day coma, surrounded by her friends. Her first request is for fur dye.

...you see it's irrefutable,
It's fixed in fact immutable-
Your senses, they don't trick or lie;
That's what you see in your mind's eye.

Tawny. Amber. Beige and hazel,
It's an accurate appraisal;
Your past is truly cast in hues
Bereft of greens and reds and blues.

A palette made up of close fellows.
Their common trait is taint by yellows.
That's the chroma key supreme:
That golden glow, that shine, that gleam.

Our universe's endless essence:
A transcendent iridescence.
A cliché theme to all our sagas;
All our alphas, and omegas.

But surely there were always others?
Magenta, mauve and all their brothers.
Cobalt rivers, deep jade glens.
Those must still have existed then!

Violet violets! Rosey roses!
Mint green mint held to our noses!
No, we can't have simply lost
That turquoise tint of window frost!

A childhood with every scene
Awash from pink to octarine!
The autumn colours numbered millions!
A world dyed in deep vermilions!

They're all right here and plain to see!
They can't just *now* have chose to be!
So yellow is the one true *Prime*.
But why so peerless in past time?

Well here's the heart of your confusion:
Your memory's a grand illusion.
You forgot most of what you've lived;
Drained away, a leaky sieve.

We've *barely* the capacity,
No matter our tenacity,
To give more than a shaky hunch
Of what we even had for lunch.

Each picture of your history,
The losses, ties, and victories
Are fabricated recollections.
And wholly holey self-reflections.

When asked to audit life's receipts,
Your mind just shrugs and simply cheats.
Your eyes take stock of what's around,
And crib a story from what's found.

Built from parts that still exist,
You are your past... and missing bits.
You're all that's left, what gets to stay
When all but yellow fades away.

Comments

[horizon]

It's fortunate this little ditty
was run through the chroma-committee
and passed their motion, and proceeded
beyond the rhymes the colors needed

before the author thought to write
of red, or blue, or grey, or white;
since at some point, exhaustive rainbow
rhyming would have led to pain. Go

try it if you don't believe me,
But do not get profoundly weepy
When you impact a wall at 'orange'—

[CrystalWaters]

8606838
The wall is there, this much is true.
The one which we cannot break through
with standard rhymes and meter true.

The fault is not with you or me,
our words are too constrained you see?
Our thoughts flow kind and slightly twee,

when what we need is sickening.
The wall stands strong, it is not thinning.
But there! A door; it's glistening

with supple flesh and twisted meat;
of bone: lock,

of gore: hinge.