Who are you that pretend
to standards and dignity,
to beauty and art
While the bright, crystalline facade
of your frozen, violent dream
threatens to rain down upon you?
Cower beneath the broken fallout
of a cracked ceiling so loft,
in willful surrender
When this transparent fantasy
of such austere obscurity
reveals itself a glass temple.
What do you see my love?
Is it this marred perception
of light's tangent direction
that shapes your lonely view?
What do you see my friend?
Is this latest distraction
from the subtle attraction
to the warmth what you seek?
as the chisel,
of internal duress
love no longer posses.
In a picture, beauty is the reflection of light.
In a scripture, truth is a shining tower of words.
And after all, that is the basis of human existence:
To see is to believe.
So what do you see, brothers and sisters,
from within the invincible walls of your cages?
Is there such beauty in your faded reflection
that the world outside must be met with rejection?
An old lesson becomes far too often unlearned:
Beauty unseen is oft most truthfully discerned.
But how many have forgotten
even the cold prisons chiseled
around their own lonely hearts?
Put the chisel to use:
to shatter your walls
Breath deep of the warmth
as the masquerade falls.
Let that black ice melt away
under the hotness of your breath,
Turn away from the seduction
of a cold, lonely death.
And let life be your masterpiece.