Art & Time

My eyes,
can only see art,
and the world, is what I stare at.
The color of love, 
blends with the soul of the time.
The sketch, of what it means,
to live.
Time, is forever.
Time, to you, means everything.
Your eyes, see time.
How much time you have until it is due,
how much time you have until it is up to you,
how much time you have, until what you own is what you lose.
That, 
must be a miserable way to live.

Because time, is not in your control.
The sun may not rise tomorrow morning, and you can't do a damn thing about it.
It is a boundary of your imagination, an obstacle of your prosperity.

My eyes, only see art.
Time does not exist,
I do not worry.
Because art is what I want,
what I need.
​And if that is not enough, then maybe time will tell me what is.