My brush, an extension of my hands,
My eyes, and pieces of my soul.
Each stroke, short and long, lands
In its spot and makes the piece whole.
Aching creeps up my spine.
So pulled into my work,
I, too, curve with my design.
Oh how I’ll miss these colors
When I can’t run my fingers over their hues.
To show my eye’s beauty to others
And introduce them to my muse.
Paint on a canvas is little
More than a trap I fight.
Your art rules mean a tittle.
No, I will stain the world with my visions.
An artist’s passion can’t be avoided in life,
Instead you will meet it with frequent collisions.
With meraki, pieces of our soul, the world is rife.
Photo Credit: Eva-Grace Petrie