If life is an infinite collection of moments,
Then the vase of memory has shattered in to pieces.
Every one of my breathes, became a vortex across my oceans.
Started a tide, a wave, perhaps a tsunami.
How could one, be similar to another,
If we do not even know if we see the same colors?
We use words, we use labels,
For our destinations and our fables,
But do you even know,
What created you?
In this world, seconds stretch for eternity,
Minutes inspire revolutions,
Images scar our armor.
We are a canvas of fire, struck by the match of moments.
How could we ever be one word,
if we are a book of life?
How could we ever be an image, a star,
if we are a galaxy, at heart?
The sun sets in a planet of mind,
my eyes are blue with ambition.
The moon falls in the damage of my sky,
my eyes are red with aggression.
I do not know who I am,
but my soul is alive with the essence.
Comfort in chaos, a grasp that we are gruesome,
Think without words, you are as limitless as the skies you wonder about,