Adventure through the continents
snow melts to sand;
a million different cultures
give me their smiles.
Inklings of life
dotted about the globe;
gain legions of peers
but my heart eternally naive.
Always thought I was building,
building myself an empire
to be glued into the time-lines of millions.
Wisdom gained from blending folklore
eventually stopped me dead:
I had been building not with bricks and mortar,
but with a fine coloured brush.
Thousands of glossy fragments arranged themselves
on my cold, lonely deathbed.
I had spent my only life painting a mere impression
of my own fatal paucity.
Rainbow tears poured from shattered glass eyes
in a dying scene of picturesque beauty.
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