The Artist

who could have dotted the skin of sky the little spec of expression born from the brushdrops, The undeniable reality that can never be dimmed out, even when the universe tries to desert it off That single spot, replicating in odds and evens every hour passing through, pastels and crayons blend with the palette each stroke expressing something new yea... calling love anew Who is the Artist birthing new worlds? that the invisible walls comes crumbling down every page colors the days pictures unspoken dreams awakened imaged by sound The artistic flair hard to imitate the growing swarm that flock the sky no flowers feel lonely to bloom the wind carries the bees and butterflies... yea and the nights lit up by fireflies Who is the Artist birthing new worlds coloring the days coloring new ways If love ever needed a reason, it pleads why? "For I am Love" to bridge the distance, between you and i... yea the stratified canvas stroked in mute reply