The Art of Living
Time will not erase us.
Like the star in the daytime sky
Time will not erase us.
Like the star in the daytime sky
We are made of the same blue atom dust cloud
Running streams of ore rust, surrounding Orion's belt,
Sketching Van Gogh's Enclosed Field with a Sower in the Rain.
And so walk the outskirts of a frame we canvas with Emersonian footsteps,
Singing songs for a painter, sitting stone cold quiet in landscapes
Brushing our knees with tall grass and cattails.
Our faces, in winter white mime, catching sunfall stretching across
Running streams of ore rust, surrounding Orion's belt,
Sketching Van Gogh's Enclosed Field with a Sower in the Rain.
And so walk the outskirts of a frame we canvas with Emersonian footsteps,
Singing songs for a painter, sitting stone cold quiet in landscapes
Brushing our knees with tall grass and cattails.
Our faces, in winter white mime, catching sunfall stretching across
Unspoken memories of grade school globes and art classes
To paint our skin, as we laze away the day hidden from humanity,
Thinking without speaking, knowing without understanding,
That the ghost lying between us is the specter of happiness
To paint our skin, as we laze away the day hidden from humanity,
Thinking without speaking, knowing without understanding,
That the ghost lying between us is the specter of happiness
And more ephemeral, more ethereal than the carbon copy of ourselves
In a painting, in this landscape, in A Starry Night
Hidden for now but soon hung for all to admire over our heads.
In a painting, in this landscape, in A Starry Night
Hidden for now but soon hung for all to admire over our heads.
images:
Van Gogh's 'Enclosed Field with a Sower in the Rain'
and 'A Starry Night'
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