How else could it shine?
Where everything lends itself to nothing,
Where shadows creep from floor to mind.
Black it seems, so called by others,
Who lift lids for whiffs of fables.
Diagnosis is dispensed, your eyes milky,
With the stigma of their convenient labels.
But the Cosmopolitans find strength,
And turn tides to beautiful hues of blue,
Their feathers signal to unfavoured reason,
And master winds, that forever circle me and you.
Image _Detail from study sheet for ON/OFF Series of original works.