Illusions, At Face Value

It's hard not to judge a book by its cover,

especially when that cover is so hard‐

One can only wonder,

What color is the heart behind a face of stone?

A gem hidden can't reflect much light...

Only a small glimpse shines from the streams that flow from colorless eyes‐

The hue of hope has been almost completely erased,

Often, isn't it?

That the least assuming books have the most tell

and often without that intention‐

These covers are illusions,

works of art with the illustrations removed from them‐

Great in number, but seemingly so hard to find‐

The kind of novels that play hide and seek professionally,

are the very same, that are worth searching for,

worth reading,

worth the attention‐

The very same attention, that the pairs of eyes proofreading such work turn away from

All within walls that in which publicity isn't warmly welcomed‐

Among the cards kept closest to the vest,

often are great odds that were overcome‐

Behind the faces of the faceless,

often are rivers of color that stream from the deepest of places

a spectrum of saturation that outsiders aren't allowed to see‐

Behind these covers, masks of solid color,

often are stories of eyes that have lost their own color,

hearts that are the heaviest among many, many others,

tales of torment and diaries of war,

nothing to be judged‐

These covers can be illusions,

and these authors of authenticity,

have value that can't be measured at the face alone‐

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Thank You For Reading!!!

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