The Painter
The painter
Everything on earth is a part of a big canvass,
From the light to he very vast
This very moment and even the past,
You, do you know until when they will last?
Yeah, God is our very own painter,
He puts life to the heat of summer
Meaning, to the wind of winter,
Mystery, to the temperature of water
However, His style no one can unfold.
What did He use in the chain of gold?
What kind of line did He pick for the heavy load?
Or, what texture did He choose for our skin when we grow old?
How did He manage to make the moon perfectly?
Even the sun, which shines brightly,
What kind f medium did He buy,
That brushes something in our heart when we die?
What do we call the hue that keeps us alive?
How do we address the color, which allows the fishes to dive?
Is it only one or more than five?
Is it like the one from the ancient tribe?
Tell me,
All what you feel and see
Come on, if you don’t mind hand me the key
Because I wanna discover the whole story
The key—I guess no one has it,
Because forever it will remain a secret
Simply because no one has ever met,
No one on earth had ever seen the painter who drew us this BEST!
06082006---08:25 am
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