Painting In Poetry
A thought of poetry run through my mind
As I gaze on the painting on the wall
Creatively brushed, none of its kind
Like Michelangelo who heeded to a call
Here I am in the midst of mortals
All endowed with artistic talents
To manifest in a pilgrim of portals
Yet many gifted fall out of balance
Some with ball in their hand
Some with brush in their hand
Some with pen in their hand
Some with strings in their hand
Life is just like painting a picture
The art of sketching without an eraser
You’ve one to paint; you can’t paint an existing picture
You’re an artist, called to live the impressions of your creator
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