i recently learned that the marble statues of the greeks i so admire were once flushed with colours, / painted with red and gold and every vivid shade fit for a god / yet the centuries tore the patterns from their surface, / leaving behind only ghostly marble and rusting bronze / letting us believe in a solemn appearance. / perhaps we will be remembered this way too, / pigment eroded from our skin, / future onlookers fooled into a past of purity and simplicity that couldn’t stray farther from the neon truth.