Not loyalty and cowardice,
but innocence and sunlight intermixed;
not royalty or avarice,
these symbols of the mutable unfixed
that mark the inner windows of the mind --
the kindly human part of human kind.
I ask these colors now for purity:
a resting place mid tones of sympathy:
assuredness and that needs no surety,
and silent emphasis in empathy
through portals into veterate regard --
these soft-lit corridors of way-too-hard
that stretch in endless darkness and decay,
that reach beyond words anyone could say,
but no less turn to truth, like night
to day
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Tagged: Tags Colors Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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