In the Painter's Canvas

In the heart of the art, love steps in breathing slowly. The blue, the brown and the green stripped of all modesty submits to red. A leg here, an arm there, confusion cliched. The painter tries to shape form in his brush But the canvas holds sounds long silenced. Sweat and pain paint a picture of tolerance And anguish sucks in a lot of the white. The artist struggles to breathe life somewhere But devastation shreds dreams to smithereens. As black and red flash loud extremes He involuntarily draws a streak of silver. Love steps in, breathing life in the horizon.