Vision is a very fine line,
where several planes combine
into an existance so fine
It produces images that are divine

But then, blessed are the few
who weave in brightly tinted hues
of love, joy, pride and sadness;
anger, despair and sheer madness.

For the many scattered amongst us
who lack the artistic gift;
Do not whine, do not fuss,
Firmly deny the growing rift
approaching in the night.
Refuse to surrender, also to fight.

For what you may lack,
in talents so fair,
You may make up with valor,
Down the road elsewhere.