The artist stains the walls with passion
People stop to watch him bleed
He blends his thoughts with a mental brush
and dabbles with the colors of his inner swirls.
A streak of anger runs through him
And lo! a red river flows down the page
He recalls a lily bloom amidst calm waters
And there emerges a cool, watery glade .
Sweat of hard work skids off his back
descending in cascading waterfalls
Scars of long lost loves come to life
leaving traces of a broken harp.
Spring beckons him to her floral lap
as wild flowers burst upon his canvas.
A blush of colour, a dab of paint.
his work done as the artist throws
whirlpools of colour into abandoned holes.
filling the blanks which nature forgot
or those smudged by human echoes.