Recreation Etched From Graphic flaws.
Updated on January 13, 2010
Recreation Etched from graphic flaws.
Purity as once
my unblemished
canescent soul shone,
but tainted by the
bright white lights,
that cast shadows
on my life, even as
the white noise of applause,
paled me to a whiter shade.
I am a dark hoarse,
a voice that once trilled
brilliant images that
graced my muse,
innocence is
the first sense
to flee the vile flesh,
like driven snow.
It darkens from
the sludge
we wallow in as
years blow past,
but I can close my eyes
and remember the
incandescent brilliance
of my impeccable youth.
A canvas left white,
in my brush with God,
a masterpiece unfinished,
flawed by the pigments
the earth put forth
in which I mixed later works.
Someday when
my soul leaves
my stained carcass
of parchment
etched with the sorrows
of missing the mark,
it will sail through
white clouds,
redeemed as it
basks in the
alabaster epitome
of my own creator
and know pure white
beauty forevermore.
©-MFB III