Chromatic

“If you cut me, will I not bleed?”
And if you insult me, will I not write?
And so the standard is set for the goal,
Tally for the par in the game of words.
I say to all those that are on this quest,
“Shine your light as bright as you can,
Do not let any tell you that you are not!”
Ours is the manifest destiny of thought,
The cryptic ambiguity of the age of reason,
Where the pageantry of your words in life,
Take precedence over those that prey.
My road started in the darkness of death,
Where rejection held the hands of fate.
As the light was shining in my hollow eyes,
I saw a vision of the chromatic light of life.
As I took those words and wrote them down,
The vision of thoughts began to flow gently.
Here the fountain of youth started to flow,
And my life became more than the words.
Realizing that what I thought that I knew,
Only turned out to be a shadow of truth.
Understanding that my knowledge is finite,
And does not equal the truth about life,
I started to bleed with every word I wrote.
Now touch the heart of the man that met Death,
And then lived to tell about it everyday!
Is this not what poetry is all about?
It is not all that hard to understand why!

Rîchård Açévédø
5/31/12