In
art,
imagination
The Artist
Pointy edge of the charcoal beast,
Scribbling on the dead white papers,
Swaying,
With his dexterous mind,
Brisk in its flamboyant flavors,
The echoes of the corporal voices,
Preaching mundane lesson,
Urging him to stay chained,
In their vicious, bounded garrison,
But he chooses to sneak away,
To the farfetched world, beyond their vision,
Unheeded,
For he is “The Artist”,
Novice,
Free like the ravens over Himalayas,
Zillion thoughts sparking his mind,
Like the luminous thunders at dark nights,
Rebellious,
Dreamer,
What can he be more?
The celebrated creative learner.
( This post is dedicated to a friend of creative wit, Jaswanth)
