It doesn’t take volumes,

Hairless, Chimps,But we all, fight like they do,More sophisticated, too.We’re a mystery on the whole,Having practiced many roles,We don’t even know ourselves,Are surprised by the reactions,Of our inner secret-selves.I would really like to know,Who produced this tragic-show,We are really quite a mess,More we live, more we’re depressed.

Like the clock that tics,Like a heart you fix,Love,The proper mix.

What beautiful, heavenly music,Now, Immortality can begin.

But never dull,So, away to discovery we go,Where we’ll land?We never know,So much is written by itself,Other times, by your secret elf.Poetry!Such a mystery,In a few words,Sometimes,A whole life’s history.

With the inner peaceThat greener, green brings,Like when a morning bird sings,Living green awakens, hope and love,In almost everything.

Said the Artist,To his Art.And from then on,They were neverFound apart.