Matthias

 

Everything possible to be believed is an image of truth.

                                                 William Blake, the Marriage of Heaven and Hell        

 

There was a boy named Matthias

But he wasn’t from my books, nor dreams

From his darkness he could not see us

Yet that’s what people thought in their realms.

 

The Queen of Death cursed the unborn child

For his mother, the Great Minerva, didn’t obey,

The Queen pulled his irises out in a night strange and wild

Piercingly, piercingly she was taking his light away.

 

His screams resonated for a billion light years,

His blood covered the rivers, the swamps, the moon

The branches trembled not but with fears

For him midnight was when it was noon.

 

Day by day he wore the paradox of his name,

Deprived of cognition of the world’s awesomeness.

Languishing after the faces, the Nature, the colors of flame,

Alas! Matthias’ life seemed so lifeless!

 

However when a boy not yet a man

Suddenly and ardently he started to paint

Feelings rather than sorrow to feel he began

In his head colors were dancing in faint.

 

‘’What marvelous work of Art!’’, thus the realm spoke

Illustrious lines, splendid shapes, veracious glimpse.

From that abundant beauty their heart broke,

So they just had to believe this blind sphinx.

 

‘’With my ears I can see, with my nostrils I can feel

My taste’s my touch, my blackness my imagination,

And just like you, the wonders of Nature I can steal

Lack of a sense is not lack of sensation’’.

 

Henceforth delightful and happy his life became,

And the Art his pleasant remedy…

Thus remember people: always seek an aim,

For there’s never a genius without a tragedy!