So I have been told
through riddles of old,
that life can be cold
and to watch out for the mold.
But I prefer to see
the warmth in me;
and not to pay a fee
for someone else to hold my key.
The key to my heart;
the place to find a new start.
I will always do my part
and see my existence as art.
Art can never be wrong,
it's in the eye of the beholder.
Whether it's paint, clay or song,
I'm in the hands of the eternal molder.
Mold me, change me;
will forever be my plea.
In the rough waters of the sea;
It's never only me, it is "we".
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