stuttering an uncertain word
an apology, filled with hatred
a eulogy; feels so sacred
and a time for an opening speech
towards a future I will beseech
a levitation, another temptation
but someday, words of caution
like artsy beings debating philosophy
the meaning of life or the absence of strife
and maybe I can follow, or maybe I can lead
a team made of we, or let I become us
for they look at me in the eyes
with tears screaming out their cries
a silence unforgiven, or maybe unforgotten
someday the paintings may be the solution
a white line
bizarrely zigzags through the echoes
the melodies of mother nature
a mother of the fruits of the mind
and today, you will remind
me of all the wonderful kinds
of human beings, all so blind
hiding behind their window blinds
a comfort of never-minds
a fear of never-finds
yet a breakthrough, a painting of discovery
a black screen, a white line
a white lie, a white lie
a meaning erased, a feeling in space
a pen and a pencil
a paintbrush and stencil
and will all my dreams reappear
once I make the seams disappear
