Today I look back on the years,
the canvas of my hopes and fears,
each stroke another memory,
that shaped who I have come to be.
With each new layer the image clears,
the final portrait ever nears,
the image of my inner self,
displayed for all upon life's shelf.
Through the years the colours change,
some bright strokes fade to dim the range,
but for each dark there is a light,
and in the end all will be right.
So now I'll go on with each day,
content that I will find my way,
in time to share this work of art,
the true reflection of my heart.
We're a species unpronounced
a needy being we are
to be so absorbed
within the hollow soil
neath our soles.
Swerving curves, tilting ruins
cast lusterous effort into the unknown
Resembling the opus
for all who see'th
doth fall within
Crusted ambiance has deflated
the insides nailed for the season
Lacking defendency of mature escapes
or finger-glasses with no seams to be sewn
Quite the route one should take when driven.