We all have an
Artistic flare
Some with words
While others paint
With colors
Songs written
Voices heard
Others make
You laugh
Or even cry
Some can touch
You
With words
Or a sympathetic
Hand
Everyone is an
Artist
With a different canvas
To paint on
Everyone has their
Own Style



L

All this universe, to the furthest stars,
all beyond them, is your flesh, your soul.
And one day, under the great sky in solitude and silence,
with humble heart shall I stand face to face with the abyss,
then, I think, i will understand why there is such a play of colors on clouds, on water, and why flowers are painted in tints, why there is music in leaves, and why the waves sending their chorus of voices
to the heart of the listening earth when I sing to make you dance.

Don't ever let distance trick you
into thinking that things would all
be so much better otherwise.

The things I hated about you
from all those miles away,
are still the things I hate about you
standing face to face.

The masterful stroke of an artist’s hands
Comes from broken fingers and cut wrists
Hands that have been dragged through hell
And rested in heaven,
That creates real mastery.

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

Saw it all,
One last time...
Slowly, pressed "DELETE"
Swore to myself,
This mistake shall not repeat.

But I know, you know
I was bluffing.

It happened again.
I saw it all one more time,
One last time.
But this time, my hands don't tremble
I press not slowly, but swiftly "DELETE"
And I know, for sure,
It won't repeat.