That is a wrong color, for a horse!
See, you can paint a horse white, brown, black…
Light brown, deep brown, deep black, kind of beige…
Kind of white…kind of black, kind of brown,
King locked in box… queen tide up…
Beyond death,
A creative soul… only deafness…death behind your eyes!
No more writers, too many…stop!
No more painters, seasons… stop!
Too many stars… milky ways…
Too many galaxies…
Too many sparkles… of life and light,
And divine seasons, like falling rain…
The skies… too many…there are too many,
Butterflies…dancing in June…no one is left
Colorless…behind.
The blues, the clouds and rays of light…
Too many universes…to many lives…
beyond you and me….to many…you see?
Nothing left in the expansion…the universe crumbling down!
Because of too many thoughts…
No paint left…too many hands…!
Everything was said? We both died.
I am still a fool. I want to write,
…and to paint the sky, once again, …with thoughtful life!
Cordillera
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