Why do I live? I ask often.
My fervency to this obscure question,
Endless and strong.
Life as a canvas is the path I am on,
In my journey to find answers.
A pencil in each hand, liberated indeed.
Seize heed and express wisely for,
Jotting down isn’t hard, while the blot stays forever.
O brother, contain something to die for,
You’re content worth containing.
Live life living with joy,
For one canvas, one pretiosus canvas is all we got.
The answer comes only when,
When my canvas is no more;
Taken away from me,
By the mystery of the canvas
15 September '13
No comments:
Post a Comment