Version 1.0

I was born the son of artists
And raised by them to see
That light is magic, depends on shadows
That perspective improves your depth

The sensitive platelets found in my blood
The rage and sadness too
The strength of heart defies my tests
As they gave me more than most

Tears from trees and music
Laughing at the acts of man
Some things are taught and others bequeathed
Or its breathed among the fog

The hallowed halls hold paint
Represent their minds eye view of how
The sun brings life to the dead
The hollow holes in the living

Perfect misses the point
Let your humanity flow, adding artist to art
Subject to object
Point and line to plane

Better yet, obscure it with emotion
Reduce it to a draft
And see it hit the target harder on a cellular level
Get out of the way of the electricity

Can you talk like this to your mother, your father?
I have this gift
Even when I’ve hidden the face of the statue
They know what the words are describing

Let a storyteller tell his version
The dancer paints, the drummer sings
The painter writes a poem, the poet sculpts
It’s all interpretation of a life lived, the death that awaits

Defy dimension, defy the mundane
Share the truth you see, only you
Don’t bother copying the others
We want your version.