One Square at at Time

The last twist contains
a hidden cloud,
magenta stain,
dye pack from the logic bank.

I’ve solved
a six color combination
meant to be endless,
three billion tortured twists,
a mathematical fix;
I’ve sectioned something sacred.

One square at a time,
I’ll have to explain
my sorting secret,
nine homogenous panes.

My violet hands
tell the fanatics
we’ve all been duped,
there’s no magical truth
found by sorting the colors
of a Rubik's cube.