Friday, January 15, 2010
Veronica
No longer shall be shrouded in the mystery that is her last name,
Nor covered with the label that is meant for respect,
But revealed with the light that is inspiration.
A lighthouse at sea, where the souls make eye contact.
A person.
A human.
A depersonalized soul.
Detached by necessity.
The pupils poke fun and irritate, while I watch, detached.
What is this?
A time for thought? A time for fight or flight?
What is it to be in the comfy chair and roll,
Look to these fresh-faced canvasses and sigh?
No longer shall be shrouded in the mystery that is her last name,
Nor covered with the label that is meant for respect,
But revealed with the light that is inspiration.
A lighthouse at sea, where the souls make eye contact.
A person.
A human.
A depersonalized soul.
Detached by necessity.
The pupils poke fun and irritate, while I watch, detached.
What is this?
A time for thought? A time for fight or flight?
What is it to be in the comfy chair and roll,
Look to these fresh-faced canvasses and sigh?
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