people rush about,
an art form of their own.
bump, push, scatter,
waft through the rooms.
bright walls, light floors,
darkness nowhere but in the observers.
they shuffle forward, desperate,
longing for enlightenment they’ll never find.
we move around them in silence.
we have no business here. they do.
this room is ours for the taking
if we make it so.
find the light. break into the crowd.
create a path to this art.
take in the haphazard smears of paint.
form a view all your own.
disregard the critics and elites;
blue doesn’t always equate to sadness.
see the shoes no one has walked in,
see the soups no one has devoured.
my thoughts will never be yours
as we look through the artist’s lens.
pop the bubble and it breaks
and you leave this wonderland.