Prisms

A poem describing the jealousy that whiteness exudes when in proximity to blackness

Rooms full of exuberant color

seen, yet almost always forgotten.

Are you sure you cant see it,

or is it too bright, 

so blinding it's too beautiful 

to comprehend?

Darkest sand on lonely shimmering shores

caressed by summer heat 

and sweet ocean scent,

pulling me further into myself

and away from the reality created

by those who are purposefully 

blind to me.

The unknown is desirable, 

the known try to change to fit a mold

made by the hands of the gods

their image mirrored in sync

for entities with god in them.

Oh, beautiful bewitching shades

of oak and mahogany

dance the embers of the known

burning with resentment and animosity

jealousy...

creating a false prerogative and bitter meaning

to the fascinating characteristic we call

human.