I am

but a dirty old man

who finds himself

in possession of

a gem

– afraid to put it

on display, I

simply twirl it in

my hands –

 

– existing

independent of

appreciation,

it appears to alter

with the changing

of perspective, but

it cares not

about the many forms it takes

when in our minds

it is reflected –

 

– hence, I tend

to lean towards

apprehension when

it comes to the sharing of

its story,

knowing that

from another’s angle shines

a wholly different

glory –

 

– nevertheless –

 

– and though I’m blinded

by the glare, I’ll

go on adding to our

confusion,

as studiously,

for amusement’s sake,

I go on painting our

illusions.

 

 

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