My Gallery

I have received a gift of colourful pallet of paints. Their cheerful substances Have inspired me to pick up a brush And paint my world! O, child, how blessed you are With the radiance of your innocence! But with every line on the canvas The colours are merging, They change, They run away from pure essence! No, please remain contoured, defined and true… Yet the paper of destiny is calling for them… And they flow. Am I each colour? Are they all me? Perhaps, the brush of choice will know? No, no, it’s got to be the paper With the hidden picture of life. Ah, but what is art of living Without an awoken expression In each and every passer-by of my gallery?