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Cirkelargument

At first he wore white, soft, platina sun-bleached linen.
Then he wore yellow, of playful marigold petals
He came to be blue as soon they was whitering.
In Grey, blue and copper-red, the pallates of metals.
He tried and tried, to match the ground to sky.
He tried to do as metals, reflecting the world's light.

Then he wore red, of tempered Sapphire lust.
As undiscrete and natural like a diamond in the rough.
His tie against shirt, as if the night was pinned below dusk.
This was the time of ostentatious scarlet nuance, which he always had hue of.

Then he wore green as if nauseous with life.
As if gagged by routine his tie was too tight.
He wondered of those days when he wore Nothing but white.
Of subsequent metallic pallates and sapphire-light.
He wondered of the times of past, during the passing of many more he cycled through the chromatography he had had.
Repeating what he knows.

Lastly he wore black and white, as if he was in equilibrium between day and night.
The earth spun and he turned to a memory still, he became marigold petals on a sunny hill. Turned to green, in grass, leaves, trees. Grew roots in the ground in ecstatic spring-peace.
He was transmuted to metal Grey, blue and copper-red. As time passed, he was sapphire again.
This kindness leaves me some Hope, My friend, No matter where you are, you're the same as you've always been.
Shifting, cycling between petals and gems





Övriga genrer av ingenallsegentligen
Läst 317 gånger och applåderad av 1 personer
Publicerad 2018-11-30 21:40



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