I turn thoughts seeking of attention
to words that wander through you hearts.
Discomfort sparks the will to strive for better.
Although, that will might just discomfort others.
So, I sit here
and ponder how to live
for the next few years
with the least
discomfort as possible.
When rain falls not,
I miss it so.
Only the rustle of raindrops
remind of your tone.
Untitled music bleeps are chanting to the bassline of the mighty organ pipes.
In the dark of my heart,
there is light of my art.
Behold me as I am,
since I’m to you is that whatever you behold.