Pigment I myself on a calico canvas, in paled hues Gray clouds sedate me and chafes me the rainbows. Gates of spring in me, parades the nameplate of fall; Immure I my self, backside of the absolving wall. Uninventive and juice-less I lie, along the river soil, Athirst I remain, neath the slaking rainfall’s toil. In bunches I pass, yet trammeled to me, is my talk; Seas of silence I hoard, a driblet of serenity I lack. Illume I, a taper of hope, ahead my closed sight; Yet euphorically cleaves, the dourest despair, tight.
Transforms a caterpillar into a beautiful butterfly- While within the cocoon, the winged dreams cry; Despairing to freely pilot, towering the cryptic sky. Deepens an exiting autumn as a welcoming spring- While snuggling the earth, the leaves mildly swing; Knolling the hoary gongs of hope, they mirthfully sing. Egresses a befogged man, as a absolved human- While the empyrean prowess of real compassion; Satiates the sleeveless vacuities of all his passion.