Our cups are ready to be full

The crayons melt, 
And there is no controlling where they spread. 
The colors you thought would fill the spaces
Are muddled together. 
New colors are created. Some are ugly. Some are beautiful. 
Some are splattered. Some are steady. 

A man stands under the colors. 
And although it is assumed he would be sad, 
Getting dumped on by wax,
He smiles widely and holds up his cup. 
He does not try to protect himself from the ambush of color.
Instead, he embraces it with all he is. 
His cup is ready to be full 
Of all those ugly, and beautiful, colors. 

Life melts. 
And there is no controlling it. 
The people and events you thought would fill your spaces
Are muddled together. 
New relationships are created, and new things happen. Some are ugly. Some are beautiful. 
Some are splattered. Some are steady. 

We stand there under the chaos life throws at us. 
And although it is assumed we would be sad, 
Getting dumped on by life and its mess, 
We smile widely and hold out our cups. 
We do not try to protect ourselves from the ambush of people and events and relationships and chaos.
Instead, we embraces it with all we are. 
Our cups are ready to be full
Of all that ugly, and beautfiul, chaos.