Applied layer by layer, color after color,
shape beside shape, ridges and indentations,
the landscape of our perceptions
shifting with the light,
our lenses are crystallizing the image
veiled by tiny particles of dust.
Was it us who laid down the paint?
Did we cradle the dried sorrow of a blue stain?
Did we throw a red that kept biting at our ankles,
leaving purple shadows under our feet?
Everything looks perfect,
the proportions, the stains,
the dance of light with shadow,
green softening the hardness of the ground.
A thought took our hands,
the painting was taken off the wall,
someone spilled drops of solvent
so they would seep through,
reaching the naked canvas.
The frame was too weak
to hold all those worlds
colors harden into shells,
the core is still breathing
with restless particles of dust.
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 7:58 PM UTC
Applied layer by layer, color after color,
shape beside shape, ridges and indentations,
the landscape of our perceptions
shifting with the light,
our lenses are crystallizing the image
veiled by tiny particles of dust.
Was it us who laid down the paint?
Did we cradle the dried sorrow of a blue stain?
Did we throw a red that kept biting at our ankles,
leaving purple shadows under our feet?
Everything looks perfect,
the proportions, the stains,
the dance of light with shadow,
green softening the hardness of the ground.
A thought took our hands,
the painting was taken off the wall,
someone spilled drops of solvent
so they would seep through,
reaching the naked canvas.
The frame was too weak
to hold all those worlds
colors harden into shells,
the core is still breathing
with restless particles of dust.
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