Intangible Loss

Do not talk of color to the blind,
nor sing praise of music to the deaf.
Words do not capture the sight of the mind,
joy of the heart, or piety enough.

The orphan knows nothing of ancestry,
the slaves nothing of their heritage.
A vague feeling of deficiency
that cannot be filled with words and verbiage.

Culture is a privilege,
civility a gift to few.
In times of equality indiscriminate
sophistication is a crime too.

But do not despair if lies proliferate,
people fib and leaders prevaricate.
A fabrication of fabrications is delicate,
and upon exposure to truth, disintegrates.

Red will still be red, discord still harsh.
They may silence the critics and deny the facts,
their art will still be ugly, their sounds still clash.
Their souls will still be empty, the poor, talentless hacks.

The beauty of this world lasts longer than men.
It is immortal as it is fleeting.
Those who see it for what it is will be born again,
who seek reality beyond perceiving.