Here the triple-shadowed unveil their beliefs:
wrangled dusk-bitten demigods walking with-
out shame.
                    Between the voice I feel and the
touch I see, sweetness loses itself in multiplic-
ity. Here the ****** creators
                                                     peddle their big
dreams: failed, half-imagined writers writing
for some fame. Between the ink I taste
                                                                    and
the blank page I peel, beauty spills onto an
unfinished film-reel. Here the salient idealists
distribute their silent pleas:
                                                 faceless, disre-
garded farmers farming hapless grain. Be-
tween
           the thoughts I see and the biases I smell,
innocence sits unwanted in a wishing-well.
Here the greatest artists
                                          present their newest
piece: aged, masterful painters painting to
stay stane. Between
                                   the subtlest colors and
the heart-arresting hues, skill picks up a gui-
tar and sings some southern
                                                  blues.