A Painter’s Sorrows

A painter is cast into a weary world,

Beauty he praises with stones and sand,

The rushing crowd stomp over her stature,

Not they to blame for they are blind;

What sins done I for such cruel torture?

My heart it twists so suffer this pain,

For I cannot bring light to this earth,

Oh must I cease sight or let life lie?

Yet in cave here sits men with lamps,

Words on walls and songs from winds,

Dwell in sleep I dream your voice,

Dear friends oh nature love you not mine?

Published in: on 09/10/2012 at 8:35 PM  Leave a Comment  

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To thyself be true my friend

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