The Artist
What do you choose for your pallet, O Lord, As you set up your Atlas, your easel. What do you splash on Aurora's skirts While Helios prepares for his ride. Do you borrow from Neptune's endless depths.
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What do you choose for your pallet, O Lord, As you set up your Atlas, your easel. What do you splash on Aurora's skirts While Helios prepares for his ride. Do you borrow from Neptune's endless depths.
As you sit there moulding your character Sculpturing his intentions, directing his reflection, naming his corrections, giving him false direction...
Like a writer dancing. Enchanted by the fluid writing. The words are so inviting. A story in their movements telling. Like a writer painting. The colours are captivating. The canvas world's so vivid.
Pressed together In the closeness of virtual sheets Our heart beats Bathed in the sweat The toil of raw expression Such sweet aggression As our eyes press Into the curves of another's line Creative...
Your lips, your eyes, your soul Are like a work of art, The most creative thing of all Is your beautiful heart.