Philosophical

The world is music 
It moves you 
Each instrument 
One to its own 
 
Entering during play 
You have no say in it 
In order to paint 
One must know pain 
 
Look away from affection 
The terror of this world 
Will tear one asunder 
Everyone crying in the rain 
 
I see you there my dear fellow lips 
My skin unborn 
My tongue tastes 
The water with my eyes closed 
 
Vision blurs as finger tips tremble 
The material plane is magic 
But it is love that may sting the caster 
For it is the only thing that is real 
 
Amor Luna white light of sleep 
Riverside shade of slumber 
Taking a rest from the brass disc of day 
Vedanta

Amor Vedanta