For Those Whom Thou Painted Thou Dost Know

Black, be not white, though some have shined thee Mighty and colorful, for thou art not hue; For those whom thou painted thou dost know, Chroma not, poor Black, nor yet taint thou smear me. From dark and grey, which but thy pictures be, Much light; then from thee much dust must flow, And tint our best hue with value do go, Rest of their highlights, and indigo’s delivery. Thou art absence to fate, solid, contentedness, and desperate sun, And dost with eraser, splice, and dull dwell; And flashy charms can make green sleep as glow And shape than thy stroke; why intersect thou flow? One pink sleep past, purple equals eternally, And black shall be no more; Black, thou shall shine.