August, 2023
He is a painter
We are just paintings
Merely works of art
Given vivid colours to widen our world
But how can we use them
When we can’t even use our own heart
When we don’t even understand our own
So blind we are that we don’t realise
We are in this world all alone
The vulture of time
Can become a nightingale
Unless we let lessons
Turn to old folk lores and tales
They say the dumb can speak
But how can we hear them
When we don’t even here those
Who scream
When we think we sit on a throne
Remember it is made of thorns
Quick realise appreciate recognise
Before the bird of sudden time has flown
