there is no way, impossible, to capture the fine single threads required to weave a tapestry of bold and delicate intertwined, of depth and surface, of a droplet of water shining outstanding in a sea of harsh blather.
there is bold, there is pale. they can coexist, perhaps even heighten each other.
but subtle is a delicacy, a single thread, a standard rarely achieved.
which is why this poem makes no pretense at subtlety.