Only one thread, being stitched along with the rest
A needle whose eye can see, which path may be best
A story, whose ending remains unaddressed
To zoom in and see the details of the thread
See all the gorey details of life that ALL sorta dread
The needle in the haystack, rests in its made bed
While the tapestry stretches beyond imaginations capacity
We stitch ourselves along our paths and never with any certainty
Our threads may be cut, they may return like the seeds of the tree
Nothing is forever, so neither must death be
Nobody knows anything except that its hard to be happy
Not one moment is ever exactly the same, thats Fates creativity
Now zoom out and view the full unraveling painting
Can you track the brush strokes or are you crying
Trying to see what the painter was saying
And where are they? The one who set it all in motion
The one in which we are to share our whole of devotion
Well they're dead of course, they drank from lifes potion
Your god hides among you all
too afraid to face your call
Perhaps this is why your fate is to fall
An ugly creation hurts the heart and stings the eyes
Perhaps that is why god took on its earth-bound disguise
Becoming all and nothing, to diminish chance of your reprise
Building blocks building towers building stakes
Skills take time, though true times are fakes
Oh but artists learn from their mistakes
We artists we become our painted flowers
each petal is a new you, all of the threads and each of their ploughers
We as artists must accept that the best art sours
Each soul that shines, all light mixing together
New heart strings creating new tether
And the artist keeps learning, for ever and forever.
