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Paleta de emociones



Paleta de emociones
By Tosha on 12/26/2008
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Among the gray of rainy clouds, when sheer anger morphed into thunder
when ever word strike as a lightning and human weep when they are under,
behind a defensive wall of glass, set darkened silhouette of a man.
Reduced to simple figures, really, he sat as if he had a plan,
in his hands he twisted tools of gods and faced unordinary odds.

He sat, plot orchestrating swiftly, to copy nature at its best
and with that thought in mind, my reader, he worked for hours with no rest.
With angled movement of the his arm unleashed the chaos onto palette
he seeked to slain the value demons, with white he searched for valid couplet,
to limit darkness he banished black, for it was something that she lacked.

Now of the plot, who is she really? An angel''s child or light''s disciple?
A mere image of her presence made complex thoughts into simple,
unobtainable wishes to follow her into the depths of hell,
just ask Dante, of his arduous adventures, fulfilling story he may tell,
but at this sport of male suffer, we, guys, tend to widely differ.

At first he placed a throne of pencil lines, upon which her essence shall reside.
Then he began God''s honest work of mapping feelings, as a guide,
to show, although may not seem so, her essence hides not in the proportions of the flesh,
but rather in the emotion''s sea, half her''s, half he keep always fresh,
when she is absent from his sight, like plant in absence of the light.

Erupted shadows, by his hand, stand for the disagreements he may have
at times the least of his desire, when he may felt close to a slave.
To contrast disdainess of these thoughts, he place divine illuminations,
these are the short-lived seconds that make life worth living, created by her common actions
such as direct look into the eyes, disrupted silence of the speech and even dwarfness of the lies.

© By Tosha On 12/26/2008 3:22:35 AM
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