“Paint not the universe transparent in color.
Paint not ones Love one color.
For every object rightly seen unlocks a new faculty of the soul.
With vast harmonies of an informant old soul, weave its threads of heart strings...one, two, thrice times more.
But first, woe is he who can outstretch a cane to the demand of a dither in the synapse currents song;
For it allows the elements of natural beauty to scale plateaus within the vaulted ceilings of our pupils.
Why grope mantled vices of ideal beauty in the Chroncrator?
Lest a silent friend of plastic eyes be your matrimony of Limbo!
For, hidden under the veil of Sheol one can only see through a muddled stained glass;
And, the vagrant soul weeps for its prospects of a home...a masquerade of dandelion umbrellas!
Pull up your eye shades, drink the light!
Enlighten me; God of shades, God of true colors within; step out of your skin;
Now, I must enchant my brush and paint not transparent in colors, for its innate manifestations has inebriated you and me.
I step aside from the canvas of Space and Time.
A refined, harmonic oscillation of heart strings strum...one, two, two, one...thrice chords sung!
Colors that surpass the rainbow...the informant knows me, for it painted me!” --W.Lewis