Washed up Memories

Somewhere along the shore, there is a place with stained sand. It's sand stained with my memories. There is blood and pain in one spot stained red. Almost maroon is my anger at a childhood plagued with pain highlighted purple in the red. Passion and love on sand stained pink. A bright green wells up in the middle of the passion, an exciting time in my life. A small ray of orange happiness begins to show. All to sudden a slash of purple, then a flood of blue. Saddness stained blue all around. Like a brilliant rainbow the sand of the beach is stained with the many colors of my life.
Yet one day my sand will be bleached white with purity and peace. Can i stand to lose the pink stain? Can i let go of the orange happiness i felt for a brief span of my life? Now it's just brown; dull and boring, blue; saddness and regrets push ever closer, and black; depression pressing closer to my heart.
Will i be able to breath when all the colors are washed away? White the absence of all color; black the merge of all color. If i continue to live my shore will be stained black, if i give my life to God my stains will be washed away. Fear, a putrid yellow now stains the present. It is a fear of the unknown future, where everything is gray.
This stretch of beach stained with my memories is slowly changing, parts are fading, growing faint in their color; love of a mother is rose mixed with wine is barely visible. Do i start over when this beach is bleached white? What then will i feel?