Dust,

Is a wonderful thing!The spirit of creationIn us sparks,And makes usLive and speak,A world without artWould be inhumanSo impoverished,Less smart,Like birds without songsWe’d wither alongArtistic creation,Is our cultivated Rose,Our salvation,Beauty’s selectionThat only love knows.The artist’s creationIs like his beloved childSo intricately, love woven,Meaning more than his life.

And bathe myself in nectar,Not just in April shower.I’d love to be a Symphony,With all of music’s power,And tell, you that my love for you,Augments more, every hour.

The more you’re with it,The more you mold it,The more you feel it,Deeper, its Hug.

It’s the light of sweet illusions,That speak gently, cradles me,The illusion that Love heals you,That it’s something you will find,That when all is lost behind you,Love can still make Life divine.

I climb, climb, looking,For you, in the icy snows,My heart thinks it knows,But sees nothing Clearly.What feeds the heart, but Love?Blood, only secondary,I lost you dreaming of,A Tale told by a Fairy.Alone now and Forever,Your words remain so still,The rivers have stopped flowing,And maybe I soon will.

The elated and mystified Crowds can read you,But never, never exceed you in your feelings,Because your words possess and are your feelings,Your words are your Life’s goal,Your words tell you, you are not alone,Your words, after all, are your Soul.