We are the mad talented ones
Filling spaces with lines
Words conjured from nothing
Descriptions of things unseen,
Emotion un evoked
We betray your mind
With the memories of a life lived
But never transcribed
Silent scream
Protest
But mute
No words
No sound
Your eyes see the design my hands present
But nothing more
So simple
So sweet
We are the golden ones
Crazy quilted children drink nectar of the gods
And grace the morning with eyes anew
Sweeping hands and fates own kiss
Wish us well
As she passes us passing you by . . .