The Famine Soul in Apprehension of Beauty,
from the realm of no being, the observer,
the forethought of all fragrance to be.

We Humans are never satisfied with pleasure,
its presence.
Something to snap shot,
for the sake of the mind which is overrun by the intellect.
The desire to seek,
within the oceanic confines,
governed by popular Aesthetics.

There is not enough to be said about the Soul,
who bask in the golden crimson sunlight and showers in the moonlight of his purple rain.

The Clock of the Artist,
ticks all year around.
He is bound to the timeless Karmic dance of the Cosmic Gypsies,
homeless is the world he wanders,
aimless without any universal Goal.

Fabuloso....

Great first post! Welcome to the site

welcome to the site...