Black and white is less than one dimension That with chains and chances Of more to come and less to see Gives us another draw Of child-like wrong conclusions Carving words once into flesh 'til now with blood we write Through distant times an epitaph To dying beauty and To one of various malfunctions That allows ourselves to be Such insolence the piper shows Trying hard to hold our strings With all his lack of strength And as in sheer delight We watch this fool just falling down Silently we sympathize But the little doubt that starts to rise From beneath the carnival of imperfection Quickly is suppressed Back into a guarding stance The courtesy of our illusions Queues up to see another dream That on the right side simply is A game of black and whiteBirth sign: Capricorn
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Matthias L..