From this poet's dusty shelf:
Sings the artist to his painting
Words unheard and words unseen
Paints the singer on the canvas
All the colors never known
Writes the poet with his fingers
Dipped in blood from out his soul
Disappears the pained creator
There stands truth, and art is whole
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2 comments:
I'm trying to wrap my brain around those beautiful words. It's too early in the morning for disecting poetry.
Wow..this is brilliant!
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