we are all incomplete,
unfinished masterpieces,
no matter our years;
there is no perfection here,
instead, the thread of an idea
of what might be
has evolved into this work -
this life -
through the years,
it only reaches its conclusion
in death
where many flaws are forgotten
as we are raised upon a pedestal
we'd never thought to climb,
only to be forgotten
in a short passage of time;
so it goes
with great art
Tag: life
Idle Minds
the idle mind
eats away at itself,
it begs for challenges
to chew upon -
it wants work,
it needs a puzzle,
anything to solve -
we destroy ourselves
with blank stares
into empty screens,
what do we retain,
an empty void
of lost time;
is life not
so precious a gift
that we might endeavor
to treat it with more care
before it is too late,
when all that is left to us
is to lament time's
empty passing
and the erosion
of our minds