The Delicate Artist

How mild was the wind?
That stirred his soul.

The color of his clay,
His childhood memories

All so thin like a thread,
When you gave him your heart.

He loved words and paint.
You were colorful
He wanted you to be colorless
So that he could refill you.

Adding more layers of color
Could be a lifetime of nearness.

Delicate art is a
Thread like life
Lived in peace,
In a silent awakening.

To bond and be you,
He became himself first.

Pain in aesthetics,
Does not kill an artist
If optimistic heartbeat
Does not betray.

The beauty of survival
Is in trying to be beautiful
To life and to work,

Above all time should
Be made beautiful.

 

 

 

Copyright Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar, Nepal
Picture Nick Victor


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