Scattered Museum Thoughts - (To Be Read While Running)

Sing to me silly of cracked silver eggs in nesting bowls under key and glass in white corridors Ruffle my hair when we reach Cezzanne my brain is alight my colors wrong The winter is spinning The tide rushes in Hand on my shoulders the artist begins Leave me alone to view the world a mapping of conquests a shooting of stars a whisper of science will all be ours Giggle me this with cogs and whistles marbles and wheels metal arm bandits dropping the egg gone silver and cracked taken from nesting bowls now put back Unison dream museum quality pushing the envelope right off the table into the white of hall ways and byways stale air and brightness through glass leaded doors to the bustle of worlds not intended for us past the safety of art and the rhythm of laughing of giggling, behalfing a million odd things to disturb and be dreams to break into glorious song never wrong to the air turned to fresh with pollution and depth of degrees to the "fill me back up to the brim" and release me back into the wonder world dim with an inhale, an exhale, of "Ahhhh"~ which somehow I just didn't know until now...