Forever his eyes can see.....
Painting beautiful words and painting with words,
Painting an ugly portrait with a hidden beauty,
Portraiture means, sometimes, silent poetry,
And other times, means a flower blossoming,
A miracle and a privilege,
Or just beauty beyond the words.
With tears like drops of rain, with tears in the rain,
Portraiture is an ice cube in the water of colors,
Floating on the river of time.... Sweet thoughts of the portraitist are coming to light,
Becoming creative and insightful realities...
He's always angry with himself, but he's never hating himself,
When he wants to be a witness, who testifies the truth.
He, sometimes, becomes frustrated, while he is living with his faith
And his divine malignant fever means writing poems,
Which are born, sometimes, from his obsessions with music.
It is about that kind of music,
Which is torturing his dreams throughout the night
And makes the weight of his loneliness to creep inside.
Behind his soul's door, always the loved souls
Can hear his musical notes...
His poetical lines are other times immense pools of light,
In which the readers wet their thoughts
To see the eyes of the Father, in that spiritual Earth paradise,
Where all souls stand as equals....
To see the eyes of the Father, in that spiritual Earth paradise,
Where forever his eyes can see.....