Undistinguished Passions

Thousand drops of rain explain how strange we are.

From strokes of brushes

Toward fused colored schemes

Create extreme tensions of what Art is.

If it were his decision.

He would paint thee Mona Lisa.

If it were his decision.

He would chisel thee statue of David.

If it were his decision.

He would paint the school of Athens.

If it were his decision.

He would sculpt penitent Magdalene.

Why does it seem obscene to pursue art?

Must we embark upon surrealism.

In order to truly glimpse into the future with a vision.

Precision through streaks of water colors.

Dance anxiously over naked canvases.

Leaving bled footprints of pigment.

Scattered across in an instant.

But if you listen closely.

You could hear thee splash of puddles as the paint brush pivots.

Limits of the imagination will continuously be mere minutes.

Thus making art itself explicit.

Many who glanced at passion have the preconceived notion of wickedness.

Art is not merely an object to cash on.

It is truly passion in our spirits.

Lit by burning desires wired by awareness.

That very fragment of reality is evolving.

As if we were to stare at illusions as if they are a speck of existence.

But ever since the inspiration of marbled giants toward figments of the imagination.

Being revived upon illustrations.

Forming a widespread invasion into millions of undiminished minds.

Therefore binding the mentality of virtue.

Releasing insights upon issues.

From initially sketching a concept with context.

Results in projecting those idealism throughout the world.

Swirl as audiences distinguish symbolism inside a portrait.

Like orphans searching for their biological parents in society.

Sanity was flawless to achieve when thou art becomes legendary.

But when reality fades away from fame.

You name will be remembered through the test of time.