Night of the soul,
A rainbow of pigment,
A river of inks,
A stream of consciousness.
The energy flows from mind to fingers,
Electric inpulses transformed to letters,
Who will read the secrets of our hearts?
Wind: blow! Waves: shatter!
The storm within pounds onto the shore
of crushed cotton rags and stomped linen loins
The trees bent and shattered
Store the treasure trove of humbled minds.
Oh, let the haughty be put to shame
Simple words will triumph
Where mountains have stumbled
Lava and dust, molten missteps.
Renaissance Art journals can be your beacon to the world.
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