Art

Where does this imagination come from?

Photo by Carl Tronders on Unsplash

In hues of passion the canvas unfolds
The artist’s soul a vivid tale to tell
Brushstrokes that dance emotions to behold
A silent symphony where colors dwell

The sculptor’s chisel shapes the marble’s grace
A frozen time carved in a stone’s embrace
The poet’s ink spills verses rich and deep
Their canvases where dreams and musings leap

The artist’s secrets echo through the years
An arrow to our hearts our joys our fears
In galleries and gardens they reside
A bridge between worlds and conflict collides

So let us cherish art its magic spun
Within its strokes our humanity has won.

— WOLRAD

(A sonnet from the Wolrad collection #342)