Aging

My world has always had walls.
Walls colored with finger paints
Of time and dreams and little things
Compiled into artful venture.

Luring me to stay within them
They pattern my life with rituals
Of outlines of dirty fingers
Painted a raw purple

But opaque though they be
They can’t keep out everything
Like light and simple things
Like time.

Focused on obscenity
The walls crowd my vision
But I see a pin point
And snap a picture of what could be 

Dulled by wisdoms grey
I’m wary for yesterday
And hoping for tomorrow
Because time is the ultimate factor

Finally inquiring questions
Due to blinding curiosity 
I flip the pages to the forbidden book
And hide behind the shadows

What I waited for is there
Seeping into view
Full of vibrant colors
New to the experienced artist

Consumed by lustful flight
I heed no warnings
The walls come crumbling down
And crush me in the mix