Picture this, a scene from an epic,
beamed with a light so intense that it triggers epileptics-
into the modern day, fine art with a modern sway,
reaches out and touches the dead speaking to them inaudibly.
Whispering winds animate atrophied limbs,
when the sublties of all that is lovely begin settling in-
and taking root, the root cause of joy speaking in mute,
spoke quietly of itself like air passes through flutes.
Beautiful; pictures worth a thousands of words living on easels,
spring to life like soil life when light lays waste to the evil-
that being the darkness, colors of grey give a shade it's carcass,
in the wake of it's destruction divinity choirs a string of notes like a harp is;
That's what the heart is.
©Krishna Volk 2010