The Extrovert: Lives Colliding


When I was

an observer,

I’d stay in the shadows

And contribute nothing

to the social artwork

before me.

I sat aloof,

convinced that

my subtle shade

would be wasted

on ignorant eyes

and lost in the chaos

of uneducated opinions.

I critiqued the disorder,

the ugly colours

that showed.

Then I realised,

the magnificence

could only be felt

and not seen.

My own brush strokes

had infinite effects

on everything around them

not visible,

but present.

That is the beauty

of lives colliding.