Heart Of Art
The art was most masterful on the dark canvas.
It seemed as though done by a gigantic genius
Colours clashed, popped, hopped, splashed, and slashed like soap bubbles.
Shades, strips, and spots with secret sacred stateliness
Hidden puddles-puffed puzzles, troubles, and struggles...
Like shade-stung sunlight, there's sweet sadness behind smiles.
Rays of fate between the skin and the skull are seen.
Though feet are not seen, legs seem to walk many miles.
Where have the eyelashes gone? Have sleepless eyes been?
Mysteries of history are seen like smoke fog.
Why a black-white amalgamation on sky peaks?
Is there an unseen spring-summer transition clog?
Lo, each paint-pattern on the canvas of time speaks
Art, in its heart, bleeds with love for each little soul.
Each little soul, in turn, conflates with the cosmic whole.
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