who can observe
the weight of the world underfoot
present above atlass weights
wind and sunshine surrounding
but absent from times degrade

who can believe 
the beauty in unspoken words
that radiate from a throbbing mind
the warmth burns a tender heart
in actions undefined

never know what the future holds
whos to say or speak out truth 
and whos to say wholl be left behind
when nothing they say can improve

who can feel
broken vases living in wilted embrace 
scattered stilled sorrowed essential
golden lacquer mended and whole
the hidden smile of elegant potential

who can feel 
empty pages on unadulterated canvases
untouched pencils sharpened and stored
the pen is filled the bottle full 
let it pour into the worlds reward

out in the world
behind closed doors
who can be tasked
when the world goes dark
could questions be asked

who would explain
who is to blame
and who will be excused
for nobody wants more
or more of the muse