The sky, my canvas,

The clouds, my paint,

my soul, my brush

and my eyes, to see the beauty they create.

If a storm comes,

I'll draw a clear sky for you,

I'll draw birds flying across the horizon,

Tree tops swinging in the cool breeze.

Green, yellow, orange, blue, red,

The colors change, but my brush strokes,

Are the same.

My mind tends to believe,

That it is my art that inspires people

But it's not the birds, trees or colors,

It's not the words, letters or lines,

It is the sheer thought, idea,

Of the world being… good.

Even simply being,

Here

Now

Makes me happy,

And inspires people,

to keep the art alive,

the art, of life.