wesmdow
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2004
- Messages
- 4,016
It begins its life an atom.
At first its far too small to see.
Its hidden here, in this place—
A place that they all want to be.
Laid down on glossy paper
Or built up of orange clay,
It is manifested in this spot—
Born in this superficial way.
To observe the work, to find it’s flaws,
To find where it is weak—
It’s a cat without his claws, now,
A bird without his beak.
Unsatisfied and empty,
It dies it’s death alone.
Broken and abandoned
Like a king without his throne.
At first its far too small to see.
Its hidden here, in this place—
A place that they all want to be.
Laid down on glossy paper
Or built up of orange clay,
It is manifested in this spot—
Born in this superficial way.
To observe the work, to find it’s flaws,
To find where it is weak—
It’s a cat without his claws, now,
A bird without his beak.
Unsatisfied and empty,
It dies it’s death alone.
Broken and abandoned
Like a king without his throne.
