shapes like shadow grow along these frames,
with hopes and dreams, wood beneath flame,
so many enter in love,in joy,
yet so many walk away,

how is it dreams become dreary paintings,
hope, become aimless structure
with no stable ground beneath,
does life remain so empty, its forgotten to be alive?

soon enough, 'come one! come all! the living being!' 
stop to stare at the foreground as life goes on behind,
must life be buried before its time, or shall we revive,
and become the living,breathing things we intended to be