Colors...

Black. The ultimate of darkness, of deep places wherein things are often lost and never found again. And before the Black field is White. Soft, gentle White. Smooth, like cream. The epitome of an empty page, a blank space to be claimed, for something to be created, to be found. Things are not lost on White. And on the White span is Red. Thick, rich, full of unspeakable things, good things and bad things. Red is pain, or anger, or sorrow, or shame. Red is guilt and fear. Red floods over White, covering it's clean purity with imperfection, revealing it's weakness, it's ability to be overrun. Red drips from White into Black, where it is lost, for nothing can overcome Black. Black is strong. Black shows no contrast against it, save White, and White succumbs to all colors. Black never succumbs. Black is forever. Even Red must give way to Black.