Musea
by Tim Cunningham
Posted to Poetry on 2002-05-04 08:21:00
They enter,
following guidelines
written on the floor
White walls,
of a purity
never witnessed
surely expressing the
deepest depression
of brilliance
More white,
no shadow,
it exhaust the
observing eye
Beauty, a void
mentally closed
There it is,
enormous, diminishing
audience to an insect
spots on the wall,
shades in the air,
and the intensity
of non-darkness
overwhelms beyond
resistance
When leaving,
their heart
solved riddles