THE PICTURE

Some see it stark, in black and white

And some in seductive shades of gray

Yet others say, it's made of light

And there are those who swear it's clay

Some silent in their knowledge stand

At dawn, beyond both night and day

And some in ecstatic ignorance

Swirl like dancing autumn leaves

Before the winds of circumstance

And blissful in existence, sway

Reflected do some see it on

The silvered mirror of polished thought

And some in the turmoil of the soul

When once the heart and mind have fought

Some behold its beauty in

The dark deep recess of your eyes

And some experience, stark, the terror

Screams that chill their blood to ice

Some see loving strokes, the canvas

Flesh on which the artist traced

His love and life and fear and pain

And pride and pity, both misplaced

Some see hate, and flames that rise

Majestic, headstrong, proud and bold

And some see pain and grief entwined

In strands of laughter, stark and cold

The universe is but a picture formed

In different shades of reality

That merge and mingle, mix and blend

All myriad roads to a common end

So all who see these various sights

Behold but what they believe to be

And believe that what they behold is true

But you see you, and I see me