The Eye of the Blind

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder they say

So the artist beholds to place on display

An eye in a camera, some paint, choice words

Ten fingers who consistently find the right chords


Like an artery carrying blood from the heart

Where your pulse is the beauty and your blood is my art


Train tracks, lavender, a woman’s silhouette

Vivaldi, Lichtenstein, Romeo’s Juliette

Who has the authority to behold and define?

Whose eye is unbiased besides that which is blind






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