The Artistic Angel
Mankind was bestowed nineteen years ago;
a boy from a few of true artisans, a family of
righteousness & calmness. For many – He’s a boy of
sublime. For the very few – He’s a man of loyalty.
Hell cries for so long for as only once in Time an
angel of art creates such awe that allows the Devil to
lie, behind stoned laughter, but cries flames by holy inspiration.
Journey He runs to & determination He inflicts with;
outer perimeters are marked by His feet, like
horses who seamlessly trot on a no man’s land.
Nations run with Him to a promise journey.
Times come & go, for Time itself is far too slow;
envisions are painted & drawn by a Man, who’s
eyes are the nexus of both His subconscious & His canvas.
To draw & to paint is His path for one’s dreamery – that runs like a
stallion, who roams with a pure, white soul & who prances on His canvas.