A forbidden woman, once removed,
no longer holds the allure
that the artist wishes to capture
and would risk his life for.
We strip the peacock of their feathers
for they are more beautiful than we.
Take the skin from prowling flanks
of lithe hunters we can never be.
We live to take the purposeful mystery
out of the mysterious.
To unpick, untie and unravel
the unknown land left for us.
We turn the tree into wood
and the wood into a boat.
Put the boat upon the water
to keep our vessels afloat.
Just because we dream of invention
does not mean it should be so.
Perhaps we are not meant to float
but gasp in fear below.
I do not fear of being pulled down,
deep and under, set to drown,
I fear that I may like it.