Simple Poetry

Creation

Liquid shades erratically dripping

From the stretched canvas of an empty sky

Above in the clouds his brush is slipping

Tumbling fast, drinking solace dry.

Soaked up by jaws of hunger, a plaque of its own

Infecting the earth, life forming from death

A clearly chaotic

Colorful cyclone

Stumbles out of its every breath

It continues to recklessly invade

The stops, shyly glancing over its shoulder

Bliss embraced it, smiling unafraid

Mountains, oceans and stars in a smolder

You asked how it happened and I told you hush

For this was all just the slip of a brush.