Sell

I take the smallest fragment of a spark
And then I set it by a lens
A backdrop made of green so I can filter out the dark
I magnify it till it seems as if a sun that won’t descend

Positioning the light before it fades
I simply take a photograph
Then alter it in ways to make it show in different shades
So it’s a loop that ever plays and no one hears the epitaph

So others, even now, can see it glow
In ways it never did before
In patterns that conceal how much was never there to show
And masquerading what was real as if a mask it merely wore

The spark, however, died a silent death
Within cavern hidden well
But since no one can see the light no longer has a breath
Nobody knew to even be there when I put it down to rest
And no one seems all that concerned as long as I still have the photographs to sell