I have read the color blue was not distinguished until modern times; some speculate that it could not be seen. Differentiation such as light and dark, black and white, seem prevalent in early language. Then, later, reds and golds. But never blue.
Perhaps this is why people feel the blues?
It is a lonely life, that of the peruser of pomegranates. I see them, fallen, in shades of red and gold. The tree is heavy, bends with the heft of so many. They crack to the ground in impotence, splitting at the seams, baring their seeds like their souls– wind open, overly ripe, exposed. Seeing them lying there like that always makes me feel blue.