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Iridescence in the dark
Dark is all in his sight, But iridescence his light! I reflect, why am I blinded, From watching the color of his art? And now I discern why, For his spectrum would fly, Straight from his heart! I yearn to live The life of his eyes, And know the colours Of his waters and his skies! I wish I could live The life of his skin, And breathe in the colour Of the clear dew drop. Why can’t I live his senses And realize the colour of the flowers, When grow their fragrances Along the whistle of the air? To experience his sphere’s chroma, I close my peepers; My sight goes off, but my insight on; There I see not murk, But his soul’s Iridescence in the dark!
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This article has 5 comments.
I have vision, yet I don't; He doesn't have "The vision", yet he does! Am I blinded from watching his soul's colors just because I've got sight?