Sunday, June 07, 2009


There are the bits of photography she captured
All over her rusty years
Small dots of light spawned over a galaxy of dark blue
Universes unexplored caught through the lens
she captured through

Back into that same bedroom,
still healthy and lively
Still in tune
A little girl wrapped in skirts and blouses
Before the morning rises,
stuck between dots of light
and wonders what is true

Impossible to watch her dancing now
and not feeling mesmerized
but just as hard to hear her stomach growl
or the sickness in her eyes
"Beauty is sick", they'd wonder indeed
the crowd drawing nigh
Watching through flashes of glowing stare
the silent rapture
While captured were the oceans of stars colorblind

Through the lens in heart
The beauty, the sickness, the pitch-black sky
and the dots of light
are still the focus of uneasy alibi
Where were we the other night?

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