We are the Art
Art stuck on my sole
When I stepped in colorful goo
I marched and I marched
And the art followed too
Art tainted my voice
When I hummed Adam’s Song
I sung and I sung
And the art danced along
Art poured in my head
When I studied the rhyme
I read and I read
And the art flew with time
But the art was not the tune
Nor the tool
Nor the tint
Art was not the brush
Nor the jewel
Nor the print
Art is the eye
Of the painter so thorough
Art is the ear
Of the musician strumming slow
Art is the hand
Of the Master, so meticulous
So flawless He does stand
While creating art full of error, quite perfectly amiss
Art changes the perspective
Unlocking the closed mind
Perspective changes the art
Altering the specifically designed
How curious, how beautiful, how hideous art is
Traveling rapidly, from one mind to the next
Shifting views as it leaks through the eyes and ears
How great Thou art
How great Thou art
This poem is about:
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: