Wall

There is now, as there was once, a man
And there is still, as there was once, a wall.
And the man looks at the wall and says to it this:
I wish I could show you how beautiful you are.

Then the wall says to the man in a quaint manner thusly:
Do not be foolish, I am only a wall
And just then myriad colors burst forth
And cast hued light upon the skin of the man
Who sighs because he’s known these colors for a while now.

But the eyes of the wall stare perpetually upwards
And spy the sun as he arcs through the cloudless sky
How perfectly round! How radiantly bright!
I am simply a wall, built to cast your shadows!

The cold stone ripples through the fingers of the man
Who had long ago closed his eyes and begun to cry
His tears fall in torrents upon the cracked and colored earth
But the wall is looking upwards. It will never look back.

Yet the man in silence draws a long breath and knows
That a wall is quite a beautiful thing
Whose colors and shadows cast so sharply.
So fiercely.