They’ve
done their best.
They’ve
passed each test you’ve set.
Wresting
form from your disorder,
they
arrest attention – cross the border
from
an absence to a breath:
close
to life, they’re almost wet.
Their
black-and-white organization
has
developed warm gradations
of
dimension: chiaroscuro
shades
and grays. Now every one
of
them has ways that none of them
had
known before. But they
desire
something more.
They
suffer from one unmet agony,
one
tragedy, one overriding dolor.
They want some color..
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