Iris....

I didn't see the real him until I looked closer; "the closer you look at something the more you will see", my mind told me. He was a play of the entire spectrum of colors, and in his center dwelt a warm, sweet, pool of movement; ink black, and lively at the slightest touch like poking a bead of mercury. His movement was drawn from the perimeter to the center, with a circumference of the richest azure. And this was only a minute speck of his entirety. To fathom his whole being would dizzy the minds of some of the greatest thinkers.