True Fresco

Emerald greens and ruby reds mingle with the latin inscriptions
as you stand
Stoic in the marble corridor
neck craned to scrutinize the vastness
Strides echoing the same vibrations as those of the patrician families centuries before you
Brows furrowed with skepticism and amazement
as the wings of angels seem to dive down
ready to graze your cold cheeks
Your fingertips touch the polished columns
as the arms of man stretch across the splendor to meet the maker
Like vines, you travel up the gilded walls and glimmer
amidst the luxury
You were never in the sketches
Yet while someone fell in love with the painter
and a master sculpted pious men
You broke the molds
all too archaic
and you made his world your own