The Artist Divine

The Artist Divine

Oblivious, I stand at the mixed expressions of an artist divine;

With colors flying like windy winds, within the trees close behind;

The yellow stroke of his paintbrush made the piece shine;

And oblivious, I stood there, at the missed expression of an artist divine.

The sun, rising from west at night;

The moon, in zest, shines bright;

The birds talking a flight, what an amazing sight;

And oblivious, I stood and an artist divine.

The night was still young and the star escaped their hides;

Lowered and leveled, were the ocean’s tides;

A moment of expressions, moistured my eyes;

And oblivious, I stood there with an artist divine.

The nest surrounded by my eight walls of skull;

And now have been laid on, an egg of a bird;

The sun has shone bright, again at night;

And oblivious, I stood there, the artist divine.