Faces, composed of such beauty
And ugliness that never before have I seen.
Places, composed of such masses
Of concrete embracing were trees should have been.

The people we meet

Breezes, carrying sounds of such laughter
And sobs that rack the air like the ribs were my own.
Rain, replenishing sources of spirit,
Falling where once watered green nature had grown.

Become the scenery

Music, that throbs and thrives in hearts
In bodies moving just like puppets on the maker’s strings.
Touches, from one flash of an eye
To the other, carrying more than the strongest of words that she sings.

Of our waking thoughts and dreams

Intentions, like golden cobblestones
Laying the roadways for masses to Hell and beyond.
Action, pounding eternally earth
And stone and air to make the impression we settled upon.

Like seeds we’ve planted.

Faces and places and breezes and rain.
Music and touches, intentions and action.
Beautiful masses sobbing soul pain.
Throbbing flashing golden refraction.

The people we meet
Become the scenery
Of our waking thoughts and dreams
Like seeds we’ve planted.

Beauty and masses and sobbing and soul pain.
Throbbing and flashing and gold and refraction.
Facing places breezing rain.
Musical touches intent actions.