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The Picture

Do not limit me with your questions –

Questions that are naught but manifestations

Spawned of your flat perspectives.

You are not able to see

That I am real.

I am no picture,

Nor an image,

Nor am I an illusion

Because I am real.

But your questions poke and prod and push

As you try to define me,

Flattening me,

Pushing me back into the image,

Taking from me my depth,

Restricting and containing me

Within your limited frame of reference.

I am beyond both picture and frame

So I will not fit your limited definitions

Nor your flat two-dimensional perspectives.

You are trapped by and within

This flat soul-less existence

So your criticism and ridicule

Do not stir me

Nor threaten me,

For I know their source.

So I know they are hurled at me

When comprehension and understanding fail you.

To me, you are like figures in a painting,

Moving only as far as the scope of the picture allows;

Defined by your costumes,

And by the landscape that surrounds you.

So no, I will not answer your questions

Unless you show me your desire

To step beyond the picture

Of your current identity.