In the magic of the dark I am lost.
And though alone I am here,
lonely I am not,
for I feel its beauty around me.
No, I, create that beauty.
I paint the dark, the brushstrokes,
leaving a trail of darker shades in their wake.
I paint portraits of nature and of mesmerizing beauty.
And... I stare at them, for it is all I can do.
I watch the trees I paint grow and the flowers bloom,
and I watch the mountains break and the clouds move.
But rain does not fall for I feel no droplets of water touch me,
nor do I hear them...
The rocks too... they are sturdy and sharp, I see them so,
but upon my touch they turn to weightless air.
And... I stand in silence, for it is all I can do.
Though lonely I may not be here,
alone I certainly am,
for the beauty I so desperately want, wants me not...