The point is to create
Even if it gets washed
Away eventually
In some, we observe a strange
Fancy towards things destructive
Can you tell me why?
lets not weigh down
on our hands, they may
have other uses
Cool, hot or old
Flame has flavors!
Memory is a sweetner
We mostly
Desire to desire.
We do get wooly
sometimes don't we!
Thoughts can't be sculpted
Into the medium, it seems
beauty can be
Power could turn feral
During times of repose
Love masquerades as the
The other sometimes....
Can the real be approached
by a re- arranging of objects
It takes some courage to
stare reality in its face
Age need not divest us
Of our beauty, it has
To station it within
May be we can only reinterpret!