The Ink And The Child

My heart does beat and make designs;

of love on every canvas, it's kept tilted.

It plays honestly with the designs;

like a child spraying the ink on the floor.

The child sees more in designs than;

the best artists can articulate on the paper.

Let the child make its own paths;

to set the world of love flying.

The child bows before the designs;

made from the spilt ink creating wonderful magic.

What, if the child wasn't there in the heart?

the eyes would have dried up in vain.

So let the child in your heart spread;

the magic from the ink spilled on canvas of life.

I bow down before the child in my heart;

because of the designs, it created from the magical ink.