Lines of linear, though most times singular
Are not visual without contrast
We don't see white, unless on black
The two are tied with knots exact
Do we need time machines?
To see the scenes of a foreign past
Or is it there to stare at fact
Written words of visions blurred
There, one man's eyes
Why feel deterred, don't emotion stir
Let your noise be heard
Sheep, not man, that walks in herds
Hold in hand that wooden staff
That guides your light and shows your path
Live a life for the aftermath
Smile with joy and cry with laugh
The lines of life are intertwined
We feel them all a dark sublime
Massively flawed with a beautiful design