See this?
See this?
Man’s work returning to dust.
Masterpiece regressing
to forgotten life.
But see, too,
the breath that once was.
Brightness still glowing
from the glory of youth
that is all but forgotten.
Layers
Layer upon layer, painted on.
Laying lies over lies,
forgotten but remaining still.
“But such a flawless face!”
You protest,
“and such perfect grace.”
Indeed, so meticulously crafted.
Of course, so compellingly lively,
but hardly alive at all.
I know, not all that great, but it's poetry nevertheless.
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