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Poem

Some say art is a window into our imagination, a port to our soul
A portal that meets the mind and all of our senses
Mixtures of raw colors engaging in love to create 
Names of shades of color one hardly hears of are present 
Still the eye captures the image and shares it with our brain
Least the brain with our spirit and therefore we spit out emotion
Perhaps inspiration too leaves our heart non the less we call it art
What triggers the mind and emotion to such beauty painted on cloth
Frozen feelings with in the frame never again will it be the same urge to create for a different image
Imagism floats from the mind and raw feelings from the spirit
Least is the love we have for one another is it not a commandment to love one another as one loves hisself 
Still the power behind such word, one could say it triggers fear to mention
Is there integrity is loving and not being lived back
Treason the heart betrays your mind
Alas the feelings fade and only opportunity remains that someday hope will find faith and love will come
Until then hollowed we remain a space fear, affection, and greed fills 
Please excuse the blood on my canvas I ran out of crimson red
Pierced my heart and here you are my hollowed canvas 





For Alley Poe

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