as beauty
has no need
appreciation to be shown,
nor recognition of -
but stands apart;

'tis true
that closeness,
like a chorus joining us, has grown
sufficient unto love, -
a work of art!

the blind
make no mistake
that sunlight's shining in the skies,
convinced by beads of sweat
of heat and such.

but sighted
you refute the light
of love with alibis
not willingly admit that
we have touched.

still
beauty, art and truth,
like love, acknowledgement without
exist, - and will intrude
your dreams upon.

no duty
binding you
to me, how ever could you doubt?!
if this, my love, weren't true
i would be gone!