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.
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