the colors everywhere

our cameras tell lies about
the passions of the moment;
the agony of our unrest
the bickering we foment –

the fulsome nature of our praise
about our present heroes;
the ones we add up endlessly
are just so many zeroes –

and yet the colors everywhere
would tell a different tale:
there’s only silence in success
and fanfare when we fail –

habituated as we are
to everything we want,
we clang the bells of innocence
and come to a détente

with all the pain the truth can cause.
we live in noise called quiet —
and watch reflections on a lake
as though it was a riot

within what we don’t understand,
denial comes to bear —
but truth is there, beyond the lens,
the colors

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