The Other Dead Metaphor
Locked within godless rooms
Sealed in vaults of megre immagination
Can you hear the words?
It’s not enough
Unable to grasp metaphor
They wither
Minds mirror plastic flowers
Lifeless without growth
Petals lacking vital scent
Too many wild verses;
Lay trapped within closed minds
A scripture’s message naught
but bones of righteous intent
They cannot see past black & White
The visions a pen can paint for thought
Lost within preconception
Beauty flounders in dogma’s grasp
Between the lines;
Forgotten ashes
The day metaphor died
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