Perception

The world is but a bleak slate
flowers are of greyscale,
skies muddle washes of dim blues
and humans slump upon such;

breathing,

existing,

because there is a void an empty hearth,
within each of us yearning for a spark

warmth,

comfort,

The blaze fuels such a vision
new comprehensions of color,

of life of;
beauty is not the kindling rather,
it is the recognition of such
that is now easily understood
unveiled before one
an array of discovery
paths that still wind the same routes
but now beam brighter

appreciation

for it is not the aesthetic of man
but the rationalization that
this it something that lies in every detail
in every place
a reasoning as to why
'love' is more than an emotion,
but an entirely new perspective.

This poem is about: 
Me

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