“the painter”

make your color from oil and ash
wash the grey from sullen landscapes
for we are born of radiant hue
marking our faces for war and dance
homes and cliff sides find our visions
we make ready for the changing of days
lovers quarrel and make up
all in the span of rightful time
and these things too must be felt
in the way the chill touches morning air
creating soft motions that ripple the spine
old photographs reveal and weather
filling leather-bound diaries with smoke
placing sepia-toned faces just so carefully
in their places and voided spaces
what is the sum of all these parts
a great story seldom told
built from the dancing color of waters
sparkling at shore’s end
what a blessing to be alive
and washed in brilliant sheen
for in this moment of pleasure
cloaked and bathed in steam
we shout from distant rooftops
longing for the places we’ve never been

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 2/17/12


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