.....The brush, rush the paint the
                        grudge    
    is ripe cultivate it or let it rust.
  The paint stail the painter frail.
   Caved canvas in sails of a sailor.
  Clash of nembuses the skin pailer  
as thunder walts ashore the ocean,
ballets on the sea like sworns with
wings intertwined dancing with the
                         wind.
You'll love the voice of melody when  
               harmony sings.
   Deep bliss drowns sins so reach
    the glimpse of peace and live

                 Poets coherent,
          honest with even pens
     and odd ends. Warm hearts
               with cold hands.
      Portraying all tales of time.
Write about bright lives bright in
     night stars riding dark skies,
                            Or
    The bane caved in same plains
       of pain as faith fades they
         aim pens on blank pages
               as sanity escapes
Vail veils of age and grow young
                         again.