Painting In Poetry

A thought of poetry run through my mind As I gaze on the painting on the wall Creatively brushed, none of its kind Like Michelangelo who heeded to a call Here I am in the midst of mortals All endowed with artistic talents To manifest in a pilgrim of portals Yet many gifted fall out of balance Some with ball in their hand Some with brush in their hand Some with pen in their hand Some with strings in their hand Life is just like painting a picture The art of sketching without an eraser You’ve one to paint; you can’t paint an existing picture You’re an artist, called to live the impressions of your creator