The grey room
A fresh breeze clears perception
Blowing away cobwebs of yesterday's learned culture,
gained by proximity to familial nature
and nurture.
Art adorns our prison walls,
once believed to cover natural flaws,
delicate strokes of aged indigo ignorance,
sheltered romance,
and the long dark halls
of decadence,
give vivid and penetrating views,
a million hues,
chartering the history's that we used.
Heavy gold leafed frame,
borders weighted,
ornate and tame,
enshroud the interior
of the minds brilliant canvas,
excess pushes,
white shades of beauty,
to fulfill sacred duty,
embrace the hearth of hearts,
dulled by time,
turned by indecision a bone white fine.
Reds of reason,
touch the slowing spring of inspiration,
and ground talent out of season.
Green guilt flows blending
into Sunday's silver sermon,
dictating white bound books,
fulfill the nooks,
and niches of freedoms
infinite mirrored look.
The immortal princess,
prostrate,
leans Rosy cheek in hand,
on a cherry chase lounge,
A Sharp faced frown,
flows down,
from plucking the fruit of withered vine,
over-ripened golden grapes,
soured by time.
Dark gray dust mires the trumpets ambition
and covers the artists brushes and loom.
Silver stutter echoes languidly through the grey room.
The enslavement will be buried by noon.
The oil lantern sparks with revere,
and awakens the soul clear,
to form a form in the face of the vast void
that was once held sacred and dear........
© 2009 Michael Achilles