I can paint no sky,
Nor sing any melodies.
What I can do however,
Is create life, from where, there is none.

I offer you no timeless pieces,
Or ceiling paintings in grand chapels.
What I offer you is so much more,
Yet so little if you can’t feel.

I offer you entire worlds.
Oceans of words and
Mountains of thought.
Hills and fields of love,
An entire sky of hope.

Every cloud, grass and leaf
I’ve made for you.
All the rivers which flow and the rains which fall,
I’ve crafted with these two hands.

My work I give to you,
Motley, live and lush.
For you to read and to live through,
In any way you’d like.

Be careful however,
For my reality is vast,
But still is made out of yellow paper.
It burns easily,
And my heart is full of sparks ready to start a blaze.
Unlike any forest fire,
My love,
Will never,
Fade…