Whispering wind like a thousand candle breaths

Laid out for all to feel and hear and see

Like six golden haired maidens in a line

It's a fair, it's a vanity show

And as far as the unseen eye can see

We are drowning in our misery

Self inflicted, self proclaimed

Why do we play this mysterious game?

Serpent snake of the sea

Swimming in a pattern divine

If the gods made everything

Then who made them, and why?

I think the question should be

Why but not who

And maybe religion would be beneficial

And we could learn something about ourselves

Slight conditions and terms may vary

That is very inconvenient if you weren't aware

And maybe all this bullshit in the world

Is really meant to scare

So meandering thoughts may wander aimlessly

But so do most in life

And wandering gets you one of two places

Creative climax or a rough life (often synonymous.)

So feel the breeze through the small window

Of your self imposed cell

Your prison, your terms

You call the shots here, warden.

You ever wonder why you were going crazy

Realized you cut out your portable music player?

Don't do it

You'll go literally insane

And whispering flowers tell no tales

There aren't any sea shells here

They may tell a tale

That sounds to the ear so queer.