The Veneer
By Beyond Zion
Perhaps a misused color caused his blindness, of this we have no understanding. He sees nothing yet everything is colorful. The pictures he paints inside the chasms of his darkness are more than wonderful, they are portals to verisimilitude. He blends masterpieces our eyes cannot comprehend, so we lock them inside a dark closet and anticipate their mummification into the forgotten. Bless the child that can open this door and melt away the wax of denomination. For cruelty has no reserve in beauty, nor does it bow to the numbered face of oppression. It bleeds not in red, but gray, because passion has a sharp tongue. Help him dear souls of loveless paths, for he is but an infant in a world of concrete hearts and an angel in a forest of Puck. Written January 27th, 2002 © on Jan 27 2002 05:38 AM PST 0 • 9
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"Perhaps a misused color caused his blindness, ..."