In the passing of years, and conveyance of lessons,
In the image we make rearranging the spectrum,
It’s a shame that we question, it’s a question of shame,
When we fade on the surface and invest in the change,
It’s the best we became, versus best of intent,
It’s a piercing white dawn where our sketch is commenced,
A hypnotic glow spills from the sheen of our youth,
From it’s origin timeless, the gleam of our truth,
Stage set, palette wet, pick a dream, make a bet,
Is it masterpiece, lesson, or sallow regret?
Is it mindless perfection, or a technical mess?
It is either and neither, it’s what you profess,
From vibrant and luminous to dirty and dull,
This life’s just a rainbow that’s made in your skull,
Your conscience is cosmic, your image cosmetic,
Be proud of your essence, enjoy your aesthetic.
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