CLAIRVOYANCE III (Legacies)

I
So those souls slowly race towards me
The traces of my being on the roads they did see
As imprints and ingots made by inks and dots
My lines created hazes and realities void of blots

II
Till I'm old, aye, till I'm cold
Covered by a warm blanket of snow
These dots will keep up impressions and expressions
As shared joys and will be out best sessions

III
I'm on a journey; a crave for a process
Of fashioning per time my happiness
One which is a function of joys and pains
One to share with hearts hungry for our gains

IV
The traces of my being are smoothened stimuli
Off reactions with Christ and with vox populi
What a delight to mediate between glory and light
For heights of art are brighter than sight!

Ara
September '15
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Footnote: with arms and fingers quavering and hope sometimes wavering, living out purpose can sometimes be herculean, but the constancy of the reality of self-importance is not out of place to any sane mind. Life must be felt, no, lived again.