To Be A Fool

Thorns poking my fingers.
  The smell of roses begins to linger.
Bleeding my passions away.
  My art came alive, then refused to stay.
I planted our memories in the dirt.
  Now lilies bloom in the middle of this desert.

Jumping on pyramids of Giza.
  Swimming in the oceans of Indonesia.
I found love in the river of the Niles.
  Stocks of roses came abundantly by the piles.
Following where the wind takes me.
  It took me for miles.
I usually find myself in these places as I feel potent.
  Imagination mixes with reality, even for just a moment.
Reflections are my only exponent.
  My soul forever lost in river potions.

THE ARTS OF A MAD TRICKSTER