Looking at the wall, I see what used to be:
a perfect brilliance as determined by time,
and such an analyst is employed by Many
to serve Some and imagine One, thank you
mono-The-ism, mono-Po-lee, mono-Gam-ee;
Numbers run against beauty: how many dots,
make for good art, One More, perhaps,
whose singular marble can be traded for
nothing short of Para-dice, wagered with
heaven for a life of caprice;
Look the other way, for warding off death
is a full-time pro/con-fession:
which is better, the First choice of
the presiding Just-ice, melting eyes
turn to hearts in the labor for love;
Did the deed account for a visual
Aid Station: in case of fiery spirals,
save the papers covered in paint,
it would be criminal to watch our
Herit-age go as we will, ashes.
Roman Ryan 