I rested on the shores of time and wept
For everything that I thought was alive and new

I prayed to some unknown God for mercy, I prayed that I would be redeemed of all the past transgressions which seemed forever Burning

I heard a whisper somewhere far off in the distance, a boat with a bright orange sail brought me some Hope, yet quickly turned its sail towards the sun instead

I died tonight, with a heavy heart and a light hand. The hand that once bled with ink of passion now sits here restless and immobile.

My pen is my savior, it is the God of my life. It is the never-ending lust which is my Energy. My force to create, or DESTROY

A woman sat here on the shore with me. Her hair brushing mine, smiling sweetly to the stars, which peeked through the dying rays of sunlight.
So beautiful and so far

Offering a cup overflowing with an elixir which I drank, reimbursed the fire which remained so muffled before

Off she went, with white feet pattering in the damp sand, leaving no trace of Existence; Rather, the echo of Loneliness

This is what I am. I am the pen, while the paper is my canvass...which then dots the skies of my universe with the art of the ages...the coming and the passing
the Invisible and the Divisible

It is on this beach that I shed tears, which I offer to the might of Nature.
Shifting in the dunes of the Lost
will the hungry artists remain