It
Kept asking and asking
For
Some kind of passion
To
Ripple through it
In
Heated, forceful waves,
O
My perfectly importunate heart!
In a coy, meandering dance
This
Flowing lava of my soul
Seeps in
Then out
Onto everything
I
Touch
It
Tells me:
“Cry out if you must,
Lie here in
Silence
If you can,
But
Let me
Break you
Along with
This antique box of
Colours
Let me
Paint your world
In gaiety”
I cannot refuse
What engulfs me
So
I am unable to resist
This sweet assault
To my soul
The grand master
Of art
Works on the artist’s heart
And the art of the artist
Is now soaked in
Blood
O blessed importunity!
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