The Perfect Art
The Perfect Art
They say, ‘A picture is worth a thousand words’.
I tell them, ‘I have written a billion and
I have heard the sweet mellow song of the birds
No garland of letters in many a land
Is enough, to paint her single hair strand.
They say, ‘Words articulated, can express’.
I tell them, ‘I have opened my heart enough,
Most surely shown her my throbbing soul’s address
I’ve never been content, all seemed mostly a bluff,
Even my poems; to narrate, is tough’.
They say, ‘Music, divine, can heighten a mind’.
I tell them, ‘There’s not a tune or note as sweet
No melody, nor harmony one can find
In all the seven worlds as her mellifluous voice
Oh, what cadence to play, everything is noise’.
So, I sat to write, hand caressing my pen,
For nothing I do can ever sing her soul
So, write, I did, this poem of my sun
Futile, I know, still, I held my begging bowl
‘Please god, give me words to fill the scroll.’
‘To paint my darlin's beauty, and light her heart,
Oh God, please make me write, please give me a start’.
‘Write all you will, and paint all hues’, God laughed,
‘You will not succeed, for she is perfect art.
It is your boon to sketch and paint, wield your craft
Life will be spent in her river, she is your raft.’