THE HAND OF THE BEHOLDER

really sweet sad terribly tragic story. what characters managed to introduce to. a mix of reality and unyielding metaphore in heartbreaking succinct verbiage. a sea of lost souls who have love to give but want more and cannot give back anything but whispers of it. what a dark room carved out of space and wiring. a safe comforting dark and lonely room. vunerable need and arrogant greed. i have both owned. both pains and both gains. but the love is alone in darkness unmet never satisfied though returned in need and greed. a crushed and bursting blood filled beating organ pounding at our door of thought. as carelous frivolous people pass by in the darkness. ************************************************* beauty is in the hand of the beholder who writes what he sees and so is agony and death. shut your eyes to the latter. a thin membrane of ignorant shield against perspective. open wide to the former of beauty and let the light hurt your hand. **********************************************^ the point of the colored prism bowed was never broken divirsity. it was coveted brilliant unity my beloved. racing together from earth to heaven in every eye. not many colors my love. many of the same hue without a prism to set free the rest. no beauty without close acceptance of the nearest new color flying near that crystal wet promise of being cleansed and new again. ********************************************** oh fragile path bear up the heavy tread of perspective in your pretty promise. **********************************************