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Beauty
Theia
Posts: 145
I wonder who will see the beauty in him
He is captivated by the way the Sun sparkles
Like a million diamonds on the surface of the pond
The way It attaches itself to every leaf
And blade of grass at this time of day
He is the only one witnessing this wonder
Right here, right now
It fills his heart and brings him great joy
He has painted many pictures in his mind
Worked out every detail using brilliant oils,
Delicate watercolors or stark charcoals
Oh, the people would be amazed at his artistry,
His eye for detail and would cry at the depth
Of the meaning of each portrait
But he lacks the talent, or thinks he does
So the pictures are never revealed
The unfinished stories and poems
Or just wonderfully worded ideas and thoughts
Are never written down and shared with anyone
Stories for children are his favorite
They would be delighted in the magic and fantasy,
Delicious plot twists and smart humor
But the words are locked in his head, never to be written
And one day forgotten
Not everyone is an artist by profession or leisure
Most of us push aside creativity to work and raise children
Live responsibly, like our mothers and fathers before us
He has a grace and loveliness that no one ever sees
No one will know the artist that he is
I hope there is a god, an all seeing, all knowing deity
Who can see the beauty in him
Who can see the beauty in us all
He is captivated by the way the Sun sparkles
Like a million diamonds on the surface of the pond
The way It attaches itself to every leaf
And blade of grass at this time of day
He is the only one witnessing this wonder
Right here, right now
It fills his heart and brings him great joy
He has painted many pictures in his mind
Worked out every detail using brilliant oils,
Delicate watercolors or stark charcoals
Oh, the people would be amazed at his artistry,
His eye for detail and would cry at the depth
Of the meaning of each portrait
But he lacks the talent, or thinks he does
So the pictures are never revealed
The unfinished stories and poems
Or just wonderfully worded ideas and thoughts
Are never written down and shared with anyone
Stories for children are his favorite
They would be delighted in the magic and fantasy,
Delicious plot twists and smart humor
But the words are locked in his head, never to be written
And one day forgotten
Not everyone is an artist by profession or leisure
Most of us push aside creativity to work and raise children
Live responsibly, like our mothers and fathers before us
He has a grace and loveliness that no one ever sees
No one will know the artist that he is
I hope there is a god, an all seeing, all knowing deity
Who can see the beauty in him
Who can see the beauty in us all
Post edited by Theia on
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"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce