Let’s start only once from the end
Could be wise for truth to unfold;
Exhale’s an effect of lungs-lend;
Start’s a cause-end of breath-hold
Old stuff might also be a start;
Great page; flip a coin to get an art;
Thus art is art; never ever be divided;
Parts or into pieces change; let lose beauty;
Blues might be joy, totally be widened
Or turn into a neutral union of sensibility
Like absurd, well-organized arbitrariness
That of nature an’ life start from endlessness;
A miracle circle; in which man’s thrown to live,
For a short time; as much as to tomb arrive!!!
All is an art of an end-start! It must!
Or a start-end; “Ashes an’ dust to dust….”:
Rust’s a must of a new stage for a skeleton
Changing into blue; the outcome’s a silent-tone
Silent with more mute motion is the song!
The same as birth to which the existence belong
A complete perfect united art… A painting
Like honey’s bees production an’ pain-sting!
Thus natural contrast is what makes it great;
Needless to be classified into types an’ a state;
For it’s a union if man’s touch were not there!
Great are the stars being far the dark share….