Blue as Sky — The Infinite Horizon

In childhood: blue is the sky.
It stretches above us without walls or ceiling, an infinite invitation to imagine, to build ladders of thought toward places not yet real. We run beneath it, believing the horizon is never out of reach. Blue then is pure expansion, the first taste of freedom we do not yet know how to name.

Blue as River — The Flow of Time

Later, as years turn, blue bends downward, becoming water, becoming river.
Here it is no longer infinite, but flowing, moving, slipping away. The river teaches us impermanence: that what we touch is already gone, that we ourselves are currents, never the same twice. In its reflection, we see the fragile architecture of time.

Blue as Eyes — Intimacy Within

In adulthood: blue settles closer to the body.
It hides in the eyes, not always as radiance, sometimes as a veil. It can be hope: a brightness that carries us forward, or it can be sorrow, a quiet fog softening the outlines of our days. This blue is intimate, it lives within us, a reminder that joy and grief share the same spectrum..

Blue as Threshold — Passage and Renewal

Blue carries contradiction in its depths. It is calm and storm, beginning and end, nostalgia and promise.
It teaches us that nothing is singular: every birth carries its death, every ending carries its seed of renewal.
Blue whispers both remember and live now, pulling us backward and forward in the same breath.

And perhaps this is why we return to it: why painters, poets, dreamers have always trusted blue.
It contains silence without emptiness, sorrow without despair, light without blinding.
It is the language of passage, the colour of thresholds.

When the final moment comes, I imagine the sky leaning close, the river folding into stillness, the eyes closing in their last shade of blue.
And then, perhaps, another sky, another river, another breath.
For if life is spiral, then blue is its thread: unbroken, forever flowing, the colour that remembers us long after we are gone.