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Behind the wardrobe lies the portrait-picture framed in black
Dust has settled silently like snow upon its back
The seasons’ carousel has passed by those eyes unseen
The world outside grown weather-worn from brown to white to green
As painted personalities wait patiently alone
Whilst the owners of the faces travel very far from home
And imprinted on the paper – a mirror of the moment
(The sickness of society
The hope of its atonement )
Ten years ago these figures manifested under glass
And the east became the west and the concrete turned to grass…

And when I take this portrait out
Out into the light
The skin and bones we were is a re-assuring sight
As all that we were striving for in our naive confusion
Is no longer locked in artifice; laid out in crude illusion
But real and everyday, and understood with clarity
The path that we are on –
No faith
No hope
But charity

In the portrait I created we are naked, we are staring
Defiantly uncertain, unconventionally caring
And I shall soon return this portrait-picture framed in black
To lie behind the wardrobe with dust upon its back
This manifesto that we made may not be seen for years
But we’ll keep our painted promise, our achievements and our fears
And carry them with pride as we become our own creation
Along the rolling road to the unknown destination

Return to the Manifesto gallery