Seniority is reality.

Everyone starts with expectations

For his or her attempt

To own color conformity,

To live with color’s shade.

Yet distance is felt

When paint has got cracks,

And shabby silhouette-shaped

Links do arrive, delivering

Images of life get abandoned.

You know a tired warrior

Rests upon knees to count days,

Parting is the way

Hearing singing of perfection

That still sounds great.

One by one the unborn gets momentum

To build the concord on cracked color.

Seniority does not always repaint it.