Liquid shades erratically dripping
From the stretched canvas of an empty sky
Above in the clouds his brush is slipping
Tumbling fast, drinking solace dry.
Soaked up by jaws of hunger, a plaque of its own
Infecting the earth, life forming from death
A clearly chaotic
Colorful cyclone
Stumbles out of its every breath
It continues to recklessly invade
The stops, shyly glancing over its shoulder
Bliss embraced it, smiling unafraid
Mountains, oceans and stars in a smolder
You asked how it happened and I told you hush
For this was all just the slip of a brush.