Mask all colour, dim the light,
Nothing’s black, nothing’s white.
Hands that colour, shades of darkness,
Capture, fall, there is no harness.
Drawn to it’s beauty, make it ugly,
Like it natural, paint it lovely.
Conclusions jumped, subject no matter,
Two parts Alice, three parts hatter.
Mask all colour, black the Knight
Brush in hand, lack of light.
Another harvest, overdue,
The fallacious picture, paints for you.
If only you could see it through my eyes,
Osmose the beauty, from which you hide.
Erasing all, for no good reason,
Lie here baron, forecast next season.
– Brocarde
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