The sky has gotten heavy with the rain
that’s started to unleash upon the ground.
Electric posts remind us of the slain
including someone who with thorns was crowned.
We’ve traveled far into this world of form;
our multicolored journey moves along.
The clouds and ground magically transform
to blue and red be it so right or wrong.
Where leads this road that doesn’t seem to end?
Or is our destination getting close?
What tinted view awaits beyond the bend?
I don’t know nor know anyone who knows.
But like a trip, to appreciate an art,
there must be somewhere where we ought to start.