If love and art are somehow fossilized from our culture,
Our planet won't seem to be as much the vulture
Of a spiteful breed,
Wanting not what we need.
But if you have a love for music,
I share it too.
It's for my soul to listen to,
It's what gets me through
Feeling sluggish with routine,
My feelings and what they mean,
For idle nothing and for everything,
Passion in the peaks of sound waves
That I will ride until my mind won't play them anymore,
Until I am only a skeleton of experience,
Until the universe swallows my spirit
And I am spread in the stars,
Until the energy of this life,
Of this being, this entity, this entirety,
explodes with chaotic beauty
With sound that shocks a current state,
And call it fate
But this seeming self destructive
Will actually be constructive
Of a new universe.
An infinite beauty
On and on
It just goes.
We just go on,
And I don't know where we go,
But I know that I will never die
as long as there is a song in my heart
As long as I live and breathe art;
The art of what speaks to my soul,
The art of discovering,
The art of love,
Something never mastered really,
And that's what makes it so profound.
Art and love,
Each more beautiful with each other,
They're never really over,
They're always recycled.
They comes swirling into my galaxy.
They are the spine of my ideals,
They frame my mind.
They speak differently to everyone but are a universal need for our kind.