Kept in the room of windy gestures,
Held with a natural will,
The blue fails to leave the creased painting.
Walls surround me in a 4x4 fashion,
And all I can do is look into the perplexed ceiling.
How deep and beautiful it seems.
Curiosity has the better of me,
As I can only hope to search for answers.
It is not a time for questions, but it is a time for roaming and wandering.
The time for color and variety;
Where white swirls and winged creatures can float by.
The sun pleases the velvet atmosphere with rays of light,
And I'm left with a smiling sensation for more.
I don't lust for the same feeling,
But I am patient and longing for another touch.
Depth has its limits,
But I must find it with my stricken ears and eyes no matter what.
So I begin with the swirls that still hang overhead.
How majestic they move;
Each motion is similar to the last,
But their form is always altering as well.
They are free within natural weather;
Gliding along to a rhythm which can only be heard by those who truly listen.
Seeing their work is a simple feat,
Where as hearing their whispered songs is an honor to behold.