I know the secret behind art.
It isn’t beauty
or love.
Beauty and love are expressive words
about art,
but they do not form art.
It is the pain and fear
of love and beauty.
The pain of having
and
the fear of losing.
And the fear comes from the knowledge
that you will have to face it
someday.
And the pain is always there,
lurking behind beauty
that is called art.
All those bad memories, sad days.
On those days or after,
you relieve yourself of the pain,
so you can face another day
made of pain.
Between the moments of relief and pain
are the days filled with fear.
And whenever you write,
you write of fear or pain,
in the seek of beauty and love
between your words of fantasy.
I know the secret behind art.