Dance of the Colors
Like a swirling mass
The chained dance of the cover
It comes in as one will fold over
Not unlike bright fitting wings
By way of their means to stand up
Face forth and take an edge
Burrow me home
Sever the links
Claiming the soul
Stamping out savory
Heavy is the means
With only a ferris wheel
Debts that hang low are wound about
Before the followings that come
Pits become lost and make no pity
Such is chaos
What could be pity
Such cannot be held
Beauty is the swirl
Color is the mace
Be knocked out by it
Dance of the Colors.
Such is the means of art, brighter in a heaven
These are a few poetic phrases, what do they mean in chaos?
Perhaps nothing when considering many a thing
But there is no despair, only the growth of mind.
That or perhaps one is left feeling strange after reading words jumbled by a wordsmith. Such is the brilliance and benevolence of anyone who toils within this fine field of artistic description.