She has the hands of an artist, hands that conjure
beauty from raw clay and molten glass.
She has the heart of an artist, a heart so fragile
it can be broken by the cries of a world in turmoil.
She has the mind of an artist, a mind that captures
concepts so deep they make the ocean seem shallow.
She lives in a world scarred by conflict and anger,
struggling to breathe in an atmosphere of rage.
She is like so many artists, wanting to be at peace yet
witnessing an age in which everyone seems at war.
She might be Carlota De Camargo Nascimento or the woman
next door, an artist and a poet you do not even know.
She may be Annie Weatherwax or a friend of a friend of
a friend, hoping to find an audience for her whimsy.
If we were all artists, for just one day, we could see
the beauty of black and white the way an artist sees color.
Thanks very much. But I think you may have a low threshold for awe. 😉 Seriously, thank you.
I am in awe of you. Thanks