tall, tan, young and lovely

the wind sounds the woodwinds in an orchestra
the flapping of leaves like tenor staccato
the flow of clouds like basstones of cellos
hammerings of life is the metronome

cravings to cast apologies
when music can’t be heard
the beauty of life sings
and is incomprehensible
through mere words

headlights and
honking horns
are not beautiful.
it isn’t beauty when manifested
from boredom.
boredom is the real root
of evil
though evil is
not
evil inherent.
evil is merely a song
incomplete

it along with all
modes of malcontent
stem from demiurge
with time, we all become evil
reflect away lightness
but that doesn’t define badness
badness comes from our yearning
to have a relationship
with the very things
we don’t understand.

the very invisible world
beside us.

not one person alive
has not seen a glimpse of it
they who’ve not,
they are the one’s that deserve
pity
they have chosen not to see
to not hear
to not feel
to not enjoy the concert

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