The Void of Colours

I sat on the grass, watching them enter the well of colours. The world outside was grey. Inside, they laughed, danced, and shared stories of their journeys.

I saw a young man walk out. With each step away from the colours, his smile faded.

I never went in. I had no stories to share, no memories to celebrate. Or perhaps... I don't have them because I never entered.

Was I sad because I remained in the grey? Or because others seemed happy in the colours?

A wise philosopher, Socmedis, once warned: "The colours are an illusion. The devil's lure."

Once, I stood close enough to hear them. Their experiences sounded real, exciting, and meaningful. That's when I felt it: the absence. If I had entered, maybe I would have lived those moments too.

Like my friend, who never cared for the flute, but the day he entered the colours and met the flute players, it became his deepest longing.

So I keep asking myself: Should I go in?