Only in death would I pursue the raptures of the art world. When I decide my leave of the world is substantial, would I paint the sky with the most vigorous shades of purple. The sunset would skate the seas with color, a golden lavender that fades into a midnight—Violet rays that gaze beyond the horizons.
Once people have felt the fulfillment of life that peers among the glass they naïvely grazed by, would I hand them my last goodbye. The appreciation gifted to them from my soul whilst it floated within my bones, released in the clouds through rain like cherry blossom petals during the fading spring season. I'd dot the drowning sun with constellations dancing across the galaxy.
Only then, would I have truly felt one with the stars.
My only dream in this waking hallucination is to feel the sisterly grasp of the stars. For when my brothers find me once more would I have truly found what I've sought for so long. The tears that stream down my face would become the energy that fuels the Earth, the food seeds suckle upon, the plants harvested and utilized for the cycle of cruel bliss we've named life. Maybe then, I'd engorge on the happiness I've relentlessly preyed upon.
