No one
Would think less of you
If you did not know
He cries every night
For the universe rests in his hands
The sounds and colors
The people the feelings
So many images all right there
In the palm of his hands
Yet no words do it justice
He can try
But he only feels failure
He can see it all in a second
Its all so real
He can almost touch it
In his mind
He practices
Holding an apple in his hand
He turns it green
And blue
Yellow
Red
Orange
Black
He gives it wings
Throwing it
With all his force
All his anger
Every bit of firey passion be has
He throws it
And watches it float down golden hills
Into a chasam
Then gliding up mountain winds
Meeting each cloud
With the kiss
Only an apple could give
Sweet and sharp
Crisp, clean and pure
Despite all this
Despite seeing the apple
And its winged journey
All he feels is failure
He has failed to truly show you
The beauty of the apples colors
The shine of the golden fields
The drop of the chasam
And the rise of the mountains
The glorius meeting
Of apple and cloud
A sight deserving of scripture
But a sight only he can see
No one would blame you
If you did not know
He cries every night