A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth.
Isolation
The big picture has no character
A floral pastiche of
Places without people, objective facts
Liberated accents of muted color, range and flow
But look upon the hand that paints it and you’ll see
Deep scars
Sorrowfully twisted fingers, bled to dryness like winter birches
A false sire, demiurge, and
Only love can paint the truth
You and I
Surrounded by the color of a thousand human souls
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