Seagull
Somewhere
Twixt heaven and hell
The hearth lay
Shades of Green and Blue
Most ancients knew them the same
Neither A
Neither B
A mixture tween
We look for the lines
We ask for the margarines
We deny the emulsifiers
We deny self
We invent only to re-
Maybe
It is ourselves
Maybe
It lay in the blindness
When you see no reds
No blues
No yellows
No greens
You are forced to deal with
Gainsboros
Battleships
And even ashes
You are forced to see the middle
You are forced to see the truth
The rest remain polarized
The rest call you
Blind
©Christopher F. Brown 2012
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