Betwixt words, lines,
Poetry's music fathoms
The depths of our heart,
The heights of our intellect
And imagination,
Breadth of our spirit,
Well of our soul,
Alluding to the unknown,
Saliently. For, the muse
But whispers, silently,
Moving in mysterious ways.
Painting's music?
Inexpressible and felt,
Unknowable and experienced,
Of echoing images, silences.
Even the shadow
Speaks of the light.
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 10:48 PM UTC
Betwixt words, lines,
Poetry's music fathoms
The depths of our heart,
The heights of our intellect
And imagination,
Breadth of our spirit,
Well of our soul,
Alluding to the unknown,
Saliently. For, the muse
But whispers, silently,
Moving in mysterious ways.
Painting's music?
Inexpressible and felt,
Unknowable and experienced,
Of echoing images, silences.
Even the shadow
Speaks of the light.
This is version two :) reality
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