Golden strokes and purple haze,
Rusted spots dropped here and there,
Patterns in a silky maze,
Buried treasures everywhere,

Strange, as they begin to turn,
To a golden purple hue,
The strokes begin to dance and swirl,
Led by winds into the blue,

As the pair spins around,
Trails of gold it leaves behind,
Covering, not just the ground,
But whatever springs to mind.

A thousand tweets are flapping wings,
Aimless float above the pools,
Reduced to silence stand the kings,
A theater, with empty stools.

Let the frozen liquid diamonds,
Wrap in sleep the worldly stage,
Covering the sea and islands,
Everything's one big white page.