Confucius [551 BC – 479 BC] said, “It is not over until it is properly concluded.”
On that fateful day, Confucius walked into the forest to gather his thoughts. The sky was gray as if it reflected his mood. Discovery must occur each day, or we are as stagnant as the rice water in a dead man’s bowl. He looked at the ground and eyed the ripest apple he had ever seen. He picked it up and held it up to the sky, examining it with great scrutiny. Confucius was very judgmental, in fact, his peers commonly called him the town asshole. It was not uncommon to hear, “Shut the fuck up, Confucius.” It was also not uncommon for Confucius to respond with, “No, you.”
Yellow had never known such vibrancy. This could not stand. He felt a profound emptiness in the pit of his stomach. There had to be a better word to define all this beauty. He would get all up in there and come up with something befitting, as sure as his name was Confucius, because that is how Confucius do.