Life is not picture perfect
For it is painted with the memories of a complex past
With a brush controlled by the cruelness of Time

Life contains traces of darkness
Distant and looming, shadowing the face of our existence
In fragments we don’t desire to look upon

Life is a pattern
It can be consistent and dull, or a display of twisting and turning and tumbling
Circles and boxes, or intricate swirls and jagged lines and vivid fireworks

Life is not black and white
But infinite shades of grey, and a million and one brilliant hues
Melting together to form yet another; the rights, the wrongs, and the parts in between

Life is the art we once viewed as perfect, but now wish we’d made differently
It is a flawed picture, yet not one to be framed and left sitting on our shelves
Collecting dust as it withers away without point

Life is forever changing at the hand’s of Time
Sometimes you’ll like what you see
At other times you won’t

To me Life is beautiful, for I am not blind
I view the world
With Kaleidoscope Eyes