The Paint Brush

Profound paintings on the world’s canvas Produced by the stroke of divine paint brush Tough, tender, slender and beauty luminous Melt, mould discerning hearts or crush Smiling, laughing faces with bubbling zest Faces in agony and pain with rivulets of tears Ugly, lustful faces, scheming and plotting to wrest Faces sunk in gloom, torments, anguish and fears Days sparkling with sun light of hope and aspiration Moonlit nights wrapped in the ecstasy of romance Demonized nights horrifying beyond imagination Ducks in flight and peacocks whirling in dervish’s dance Colorful chirping birds and singing nightingale Roses, gardens, trees, butterflies and bees Races black, white, yellow, brown strong and frail All artistically crafted whichever way one sees Refreshing serenity of the religious places of worship And its contrast in hatred and abomination of war Cool comfort and compassion of love and friendship Bringing souls together from the near and far How has the brush painted me in awe-inspiring scene? Does the glow on my face transcend the virtues of my soul? Am I embodiment of love and kindness or ugly obscene? On canvas am I Colossus or dwarfed by selfish goal?