Tuesday, December 07, 2010

Art I

It starts with a breath.

As blurry vision gradually sharpens and deaf ears learn to hear, the world reveals itself. From the beauty inherent in nature, to the beautiful sorrows of pain, everything speaks. But the true beauty speaks its own tongue, and it can only be felt, not truly seen, not truly heard, not truly understood.

The perfect note falls flat.

The picture blurs.

The words run together.

Truth stops at the wall.

No comments: