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All clouds are only water and air
Beyond my mind, I am blank
Circling thoughts are mere casualties
Dust fills my lungs and dances
Everlasting ideas create a gentle emptiness
About half past noon,
Before I
Climbed through that
Door of your's,
Events beyond our control
Forced their way through
Gateways to other
Homelands.
I sat,
Just waiting,
Amazingly, pretentious artists actually exist
Blissfully ignorant of the fact that
Consciously barring any form of creativity
Defies the very essence of art.
