Midnight in a perfect world; /
beautiful oblivion lingers in darkness./
Cold in the heart of the spark that is lit.../
For, by itself, it is only nothingness.
Meaning lives on in the depth of mortal coil/
a concrete structure of day-to-day doesn't mix with it; like water and oil./
Emptiness, with a certain substance that is sure to ask,
"What does your Soul look like?" And has raw artistry propelled it...
...Only to crash? Gone in the sweep of oblivion, perhaps? /
Sacred only, is the impact of impressions, surpassing all time and space.
It is true, that one day, even YOU will forget your face, /
regardless of it's beautiful shape. /
Better to make your mark from the inside,
for, tattoos on the skin will fade into the earth, leaving only eyes of mind. /
No one can truly define the dimensions of such a blurred line of oblivion.
But rest assured, that in your body's decomposition, /
when all things that we find grand, are no longer there to find.../
In the midst of such beautiful oblivion and thus absence of life,
no concrete subject needs to ask, or find answer to...
"What does your Soul look like?"
###
Mike O'Toole A/K/A "SOUL ENIGMA"
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