Mystery of Art

A heart touched by love-
As pure as a diamond,
And true as the Sun.

A heart known to sorrow,

By its first name;

Ripped apart by a sword;

A heart that’s seen beauty,

From the dew on a grass,
To the setting sun;
A heart that glimpsed bliss,
Of the human flesh,
To the celestial;

Flows art in various form;
For others to wonder,
And dream on…