That tis a beautiful day

When the haze lifts and creation begins. Art is when perfect imagination is projected on the imperfections of existence.

I see the colours crashing off the rain-washed walls,

Galloping onto the clouds with standards of light;

The fever and the fog broke, earth breathes again,

as the song of life returns with open eyes;

From its knees it rises once more; root, hide and tears,

enslaving a drum of war within its march;

Step by behemoth step, the spirit's strides quake,

Until the dews drop and dust settles we'll know;

That tis a beautiful day. 

Author's Note

Muse has been on vacation, and procrastination stopped by. but i've recently found issues to sort, which is great for the writing. All comments and thoughts are welcomed!