Thinkers

The times I had are lost

In past events of ruins old

Used up and worst of all

They're worn from countless stories told

I live in moments gone

The ones that occupy my mind

Like spells they're cast upon

This empty circle that is time

So carefully I choose

Which vessels I will redefine

As art or country blues

I paint in hues the subtle line

Between the outer world

And what exist within the seams

Is where we're all unfurled

The stitches of the galaxy

A microscopic form

As seen from distances beyond

To fathom thoughts like these

Would take much longer than a night

But not so much it seems

For those who contemplate the day

For thinkings in their streams

Or so the thinkers like to say