Hello:) This is my first poem entry. I've always been using it's message as a saying, so I thought I would try to create a poem out of it. Tell me what you think!
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The Artist and His brush
I am a tool who’s guided by
An Artist’s genius Hand
Together we’ll touch many hearts
Alone I cannot stand
I stroke against the canvas wall
His colors splash the white
Valuable and beautiful
Reflections of the Light
If bristles were to split their ways
I would not be of use
He needs my flexibility
Open but not obtuse
My work is done
The water runs
To rinse me of my past
To be reused
For different hues
The old ones cannot last
And if I sit in violet grit
The future will rewind
I look ahead
Renewed instead
To bigger, greater lines
Now I must glide, and dot, and dab
No motion means no masterpiece
The world has many million brushes
But I am blessed for He chose me
I am a tool who’s guided by
An Artist’s genius Hand
Together we’ll touch many hearts
Alone I cannot stand
