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Walking Down the Street

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I walked down the street one day,
And I saw something beautiful.
I wanted to capture it,
And share it with the world.
But it stayed just with me,
This something so beautiful.
It made me feel golden,
And sad at the same time.

He asked me what Art is,
And I said something beautiful.
He said Art is not Life,
And so there is a difference.
So he showed me something,
Abstract and superficial.
I told him this was not Art,
Because it made me feel nothing.
I said it was not Art,
Because it was not Beauty.
He said if it is not Art,
And it is not Life,
Then what is it?
I said I don’t know,
And I just walked away.

I walked down the street one day,
And I saw something beautiful.
And it elevated me.
And it inspired me.
And I thought, this is Art.
And I thought, this is Truth.
But he said, this is Life.
And I knew that if I could capture this,
It would be Art.
This moment made eternal by me,
Could elevate and inspire
Another soul around the world.
Maybe even two.




So I told him, Art is capturing Life,
In sublime, poetic ways.
Though I wasn’t quite sure what I meant,
When he looked at me and walked away.


So I took him down the street today,
And showed him Beauty happening.
But he did not see for he was blind,
It makes me sad to say and think.
I told him all around is Art,
He says it’s only I that sees.
I told him all around is Truth,
But he says that’s quite hard to see.
I knew if I could capture it right,
I could open his eyes that he could be free.
I knew if I could capture this sight,
I could make them all see as I see.

And that is Art, I told him thus
Still I do not understand
If we are Art, and Art is Life
Or everything in between.



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