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I lifted my brush to wield a few bright strokes,
That would emboss my work of art,
With the finesse of a touch artist
A satisfied look at it enriched the artist in me
Deceived me to think I have created a masterpiece
The Vinci in me was rearing to go
Lest did I realize, this work of art would,
Degenerate to the despotism of time
And would be removed without trace
A long deep meditation made me realize.
Anything material that I would make
Would be met with the same fate
I wanted to make something that would
Transmogrify and transcend over time
But would never be put to oblivion
Then I could comprehend that every work of art
When looked back is "A Sketch in the Ravines of Time" |
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