What is seen is already
Broken, and what is depicted
Never was. The artists had
Their agendas, trying to impose
Reality to the limits of oils
And borders, even if a deformation
had to occur. But all that remains
Is another object that reality holds.
But an object is its own being.
Even if the artist casts himself
The failure of his dreams,
And reality tosses his name
To the spaces between air,
The thing stays here for you,
Its meaning simmering into shapes,
the reconfigured glares, the figures
twisted into color, movements
That were not borne of reality
Directly, but are now within
Its domain, changing its air,
Maybe changing you as well.
Written for Reena’s Exploration Challenge #146.