Ravenwolfvoyage
02-16-2004, 03:02 PM
Life is an open canvas that blindly lies in eager wait,
The artist in vision’s his masterpiece through life's inward gate;
Cascading colors stroke the skies in turquoise granite plate,
While the spectrum bow conceives within its tranquil state.
Fluently drifting in and out a butterfly decidingly appears,
Then Flutters away from the emptiness until it has disappeared;
Perhaps its journeys are never fulfilled and hopes dispelled,
Quite much like a bucket of dreams that always seems to spill.
Glancing over my shoulder to see who’s there,
It is merely a self awarness to my life’s despair;
Vanquished and emptied of a soldiers solemn march,
In wait of the rainbow’s earthward colored arch.
Laid riddled and empty of Neptune’s glass,
The painted work of art is now finished alas;
Yet no tranquil radiant colors were instilled,
Just a canvas awaiting on another days dream to steal.
The artist in vision’s his masterpiece through life's inward gate;
Cascading colors stroke the skies in turquoise granite plate,
While the spectrum bow conceives within its tranquil state.
Fluently drifting in and out a butterfly decidingly appears,
Then Flutters away from the emptiness until it has disappeared;
Perhaps its journeys are never fulfilled and hopes dispelled,
Quite much like a bucket of dreams that always seems to spill.
Glancing over my shoulder to see who’s there,
It is merely a self awarness to my life’s despair;
Vanquished and emptied of a soldiers solemn march,
In wait of the rainbow’s earthward colored arch.
Laid riddled and empty of Neptune’s glass,
The painted work of art is now finished alas;
Yet no tranquil radiant colors were instilled,
Just a canvas awaiting on another days dream to steal.