THE GIFT OF SIGHT
Argus - a thousand eyes
Blink from your singular purpose
To be as conscious as you
To never know rest
Engulfed by every shiver of light
Where color is psche and tone piety
Truth spry Argus that never rests
Is to miss nothing and remember all
Until all the stars are cinders
To slake the bottomless well of detail
What torment lies in your ancient sight
That prays for a moment - perhaps - really
Only one moment of blindness
Of complete eternal sleep
The whites of all your rimed eyes
Closed to a black molecule of perfect peace
GICLÉE Print $350
