INDIGO ↔ TURQUOISE

Two Kinds of Undecided.

THE STORM ARGUES WITH THE NIGHT

Indigo waits.

Not passive — just vast.

It holds whole galaxies of questions

and lets them burn out quietly.

Turquoise climbs.

It crackles at the seam.

It calls uncertainty a storm

and tries to split the sky open.

One says:

Let it remain unknown.

The other says:

Answer me — or I’ll become the thunder.