Beauty and Horror


The greatest masterpiece in art’s history
Lies hidden in a desert floor.
The ages and the elements
Have consumed it not,
Yet both stand impenetrable
Between those who search and its discovery.

Cavernous dungeons, dark and menacing,
Continue to hide their little treasure.
Is it that the search is too perilous?
Or would the discovery be more destructive
Than the moments of creation
Could ever have permitted be envisaged?

Other entities lie concealed too,
Deep beneath the sands,
Beyond the fires and below
The waters that run from time to time in secrecy.
How can the masterpiece surface
When its doing so could bring with it these other dangers?

The world is not ready for the risk,
Not prepared for the kinds of
Beauty and horror that may
Erupt from some volcano or
Flow from the oases in twin torrents,
And none proves brave enough to carry it forth.

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