His coarse broad hands are
covered in lead from palm to tip;
an image of raw masculinity.

Gripping loosely a pencil,
they glide swiftly from
left to right,
up and down,
back and forth
in anything but carbon copy patterns
of what’s been created before.
The canvas is transformed into art;
a translation of thoughts to tangible visions.

With these hands the artist is able to
express dreams otherwise indescribable through speech.
They are tools that capture memories
and reflect pure emotions.
His hands are a straight passage way to
the heart, soul and mind.

Something so rough at first glance
has never been more beautiful to me