Where music doesn’t have composers
Where poetry rhymes to no donors
Where art sells to cover the posers
When we live in a time
That carries speed as its pride
That rewards the poor with its strife
That leaves death as a gift on the side
When we live in a time
Where every word marries its end
To say nothing and frivolously spend
Your life in misery with no intent
When we live in a time
Where the sad grows taller than trees
Where the land is plowed with unsaid fears
Where the sand is lush with agony and tears
We live in a time
Where time is a hasty devil
Eating its way through a lying puzzle
Saving no one but its sinful drivel
We live
Not to quench this distaste
Or to save it from its willful misplace
Or even to shame its rightful space
But to live
And that alone is enough
To compose and write in strokes of wonder
For living when time is out
Never needed a when to begin or shout
And in that, only that, there is no doubt.
Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~
‘But to live’ yes 🥳
Beautiful, real art!