The Mess

It's so beautiful a mess we create

Running across with aims ever expanding

Making sense out of the non sense

Such are we great artists of this age

Creating a mess with our own being

Then spending hours to solve the riddles

A purpose to live for a purpose to die for

Feeling the throbbing blood steam

Right in the forehead and nostrils

Shrugging the shoulders in the mess

Feeling proud of seeking the core

With no time to look around and inside

To look beyond the mess we create