Art

Art is sometimes like water
To some it’s replenishing
To others it has no taste
But in the end, it’s fluid
And often healthy for you

Balance

Truth
It splits
Makes yin and yang
To form a world in constant flux

Infinite

Oceans of choices
Birth endless universes
Bound by vibrations

Absurd

Form your own meaning
In a cosmos without one
No divine law breaks

Music

Order of noises
Waves in air vibrate and reach
One, two, three and four

Shades

Light of Existence
Shines on trees of perception
Shades we call reason

Butterflies

Butterfly people
Float from dreaming to waking
A fickle sequence

The Abyss

Once in the dark and vast abyss

Mankind knew something was amiss

So they stared into it, black as pitch

To which the darkness responded, “bitch”

The Howl

When wolves howl at the moon
Are they praying to it?
Their god’s light in the dark

The Werewolf’s mind is torn
Cast out from masked creatures
To the woods of known beasts

Storms often bring out truths
The faces inside us
This storm is no different

A downpour of red rain
A gale of confusion
Thunder of solitude

In the storm of his curse
Does he pray for god’s grace
Or howl at the moon’s light?

Time

Time is an artist
From the oceans of chaos
Emerge cosmic grace