An Artist

Him and I are very different... he sees a strange painting I see beauty and mystery he sees a stupid ballet I see technique, emotion, passion he sees a tree or the ocean I see wonder and grace he sees the sky or feels the wind I see miracles and endless possibilities he sees a homeless man I see history and fear he sees money and power I see evil and greed he sees a tear and weakness I see pain and a breaking point he sees diffrences I see individuality and commonality as a human race he sees insanity I see creativity and curiousity he sees life I see a journey and a struggle he sees a trophy wife... a convenience I see me...my understanding, my mind, my heart In me I see the painting and the ballet I am part of the tree, the ocean, and the sky I too am like the homeless man who is weak and tired I cry and I am probably slighty insane but I am different... I don't need money or power I am the artist... I just need the special vision to be able to paint the story of my life