The Sculptures of Many Faces
In the eve of the morn, I rose from bed.
When the clock stuck noon, I went into the lavatory to check
my skeleton heads.
Each sat on a mantle of its own.
Images of that, which have bygone, a rebirth form of faces
that has haunted existence for so long.
My hands touch and begin to sculpture the busts.
Ah, Karma is very lovely.
The atmosphere was fulfill with aura.
My vibes demonstrated a six sense.
My fingertips outlined their essence.
These busts were of woman and man.
Bygone was the days they had been discussed in the world.
Their impressions; however, are well remembered.
Ah, Karma was ambiance.
Tis morn, when I awoke in this place, sets Sculptures of Many Faces.
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