Art speaks silently to creator and spectator.
Though its words to each diverge.
Painted, written, and sung.
Each brush stroke a story.
Each word a song
Each song an awakening
Music, colors pricking the depths of our being.
Imagery, whispering what our souls long to hear.
Melodies that expose reclusive remains
Reminding us of lost things.
Utterances strung in rhythm.
Lyrics and measures reverberate spirit and flesh.
Consequential notes.
Every line a written tale.
Stirring hearts,
Souls,
Minds.
Art, in all forms,
speaks silently.
-Clary
Sarcastically Cynical 