REALITY

The artist set up his palette with paint;
all the rainbow’s colors were there;
dabbing his brush, showing little restraint;
sending colors descending everywhere.

But more than paint; He also sent sound;
a crescendoing, thundering roar;
everywhere you could see;  all around;
with the finesse of a musical score.

I am an aspiring artist,
painting the world I see;
reality is really just a mist;
I am, what I’m painted to be.

I don’t dab paint on a canvas;
writing is my medium choice;
but still, I am an artist;
words have expressions to voice.

Words turn

The present has become a poison to me;
its toxic effects cause me despair;
unwilling to endure that past I still see;
and unable to discover the where.

I used to long for a future place;
surely it would be my where;
But I’m unable to reach that space;

So, we think we’ve had our fill of pains;
we’ve caused even more for our brother;
and to reality, who, over us, reigns;
we’ve given so much sorrow to another.

Greed and envy, always fill up our plate;
pride is a most arrogant master;
and, faced with

How is it that thoughts, deep in my mind;
keep finding new ways to come out;
is that how it all, is somehow designed:
how it is that speech comes about?

It’s as if my mouth fills up with thought;
until it overflows with words.
Without considering what it

In reality, life;  is a war of attrition;
Evil facing Good; in order to survive.
Each battle fought is a form of division;
all participants trying, to stay alive.

The dirty secret is that all life, lives on;
we cannot, our enemy;  kill.
And, Evil, itself, will never be gone;

It seems all meaning has vanished;
from yesterday’s world; today;
all of the dead have been banished;
and, no more have something to say.

We each have been given a trust;
within the confines of life;
to fill our purpose, we must;
endure tribulations and strife.

Sometimes it seems

Can reality run out of space;
or is there room for one more;
can reality, the past replace;
or is it too great a chore.

Are there any limits to love;
is there enough to go round;
showered down from above;
can enough love be found?

Is there abundance of