<center><h1>Three lines laid
.</h1>original poetry 
and macro-photos
.
_ – . – _
&nbsp;{ @d-pend }&nbsp;
– _ . _ –</center>

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![n.jpg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/psOqHSgf-n.jpg)
![o 2.jpeg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/jLS8En8u-o202.jpeg)
![p.jpeg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/mAEKdz2N-p.jpeg)
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<h1>Three lines laid</h1><sup>____________________________________</sup>
<h3>I.</h3>

Come up against a wall
of grit, of color, deathly pall:
a splattered line, a work abstract,
regathered fullness, dreaded lack,
effulgent self — and dire loss,
strange emptiness, brighter emboss
of expectations shattered, torn
from low estate to higher morn.

<h3>II.</h3>

In moment's pause am I newborn;
I reconsider the forlorn
and tragic elements of life,
for good, for ill, forever wife
of strange fullfillment in short being,
a few decades only seeing
the screenplay of sun arising new
and sky-fount soft bestowing dew
on surface strewn, experimenting
forms and figures, little denting
into the depths of awe unknown—
which cannot be found alone.


<h3>III.</h3>

I am a mural;
I have been painted,
somewhat pastoral,
unrealism-tainted.

Perhaps by the lens,
Perhaps by the mirror
do I see those sins:
a penitent jeerer
who jibes, makes amends,
an innocent leerer.

Stare like a child;
behold the harsh lines
and yet remain mild
in meas'ring the signs
of a passionate art,
of a thing truly made—
by a loftier heart
the pieces were laid.



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![q 2.jpeg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/hgjK3Oqc-q202.jpeg)
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![m 3.jpeg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/4O4T5pr6-m203.jpeg)
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<center>Original poetry and photos by Daniel Pendergraft
posted on-chain April 23, 2020.
.
*[photos taken with iPhone 8+
using a 15x macro lens attachment.]*</center>
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![m.jpeg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/EqhawMWv-m.jpeg)
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![r.jpeg](https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/d-pend/iz9UwKjh-r.jpeg)