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Bones are begging to announce, what the flesh already knows. |
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Life is a lesson in impermanence, a moment's born to decompose. |
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We are granted but an instant here, providing more than ample time. |
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The map is seldom read without a key, with fortune lost or left behind. |
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Grace is stolen from black and white. |
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Shade gives way in its own good time. |
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Grey speaks volumes to color blind. |
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Place is space between the cracks where we collide. |
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Our eyes brush the world with paint that shows us home. |
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The deserts, they crack and dry neglected mirages while the faults reflect. |
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Sand sings sweetly when you're listening. |
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Mountains give way, if our touch simply rejects. |
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Gaze into the darkness, strip away the layers of vibrant explosions born of truths we gave them. |
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Gaze into the darkness, forget the motions you've been taught, no solid ground to lay your head is given. |
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Tides hue the stone with a patient hand, mimicking form from a perfect plan. |
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Ash turns to dust with the constant wind. |
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That which is made and unmade again. |
