Josh had a thing about, a love of, rainbows. Josh was simple. Everyone knew that. "That's why he has this thing, it's all to do with colours," they said, knowingly - as if there might be something else in rainbows, something hidden, that they couldn't see. Each day Josh painted rainbows. He knew the names and sequence of the hues, but saw no need to stick to them. He'd paint with either brush or fingers, mostly. Just sometimes he'd use a knife. A single colour on occasions. Mostly two or three or all of them. Whatever colours made him feel "electric" or "switched on" that day. He painted, he would say, the rainbows in his head, not those up in the sky. Once he painted one all black - that being how he felt that day, his 'lectric "sparking out" on him. His "bows" were always wild arcs swept across the page. Sometimes two or three in the same frame, sometimes vertical and sometimes crossing one another. Weird at times, and always only them. Nothing else to spoil the view. And then the doctor said that Josh had "moments". Join the club. And don't we all!
- The secrets that we almost grasp,
know we are inches short of them
but cannot quite see what we know...
the hidden things that make us gasp...
the place we thought we'd entered
but were a shade away.
- We can prove the Big Bang by the rainbow,
the where and the why and the when.
The secret of all that has happened
is locked in the flimsiest thing.