Art

Destiny was a port.
Some scar.
Destiny, a piece of the moon.
Art in motion.
Perpetual. Reticent.
I know the city.
Perhaps its vices.
But also its people.
I know your loneliness.
I cover it.
I erase with art, incense,
paintbrushes that fall apart.
I erase the bad and get in return,
art.
Hope.
Destiny is the source,
I call it Oasis.
We don't need to walk alone.
I don't disappear.
I remain.
I intertwine myself with threads.
New memories.
I make new things,
I implant ideas,
I harvest them,
they are grapes,
they are rye.
You can paint my walls.
They are endless,
even in the dark,
you can find them, draw a dragon.
wolves.
Traffic lights.
Water lilies.
Neural networks.
A coffee, thick smoke.
We have a space, it's safe.
Let's paint, dilute colors, use water, soap bubbles.
Trains, pelicans.
Let's go back to messages in bottles.
Rivers, open sea.
Potatoes, leisure.
Destiny.
Transition of art.

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