Thursday, 30 May 2013
07:42:58 PM (GMT)
The secrets it can hold,
The truths it can reveal.
A perfect canvas, not always blank.
Nothingness is emphasised by presences
Just as easily as it is destroyed by them.
The sublime emptiness of all that can touch
And all that can hurt or caress, suddenly now vanished.
Concealed in the depths of vast blue
Speckled with drops of perfection, making the darkness darker.
The blindness with which we see
Can only be remedied by looking deeper,
And words we dislike need only be heard in new ways.