Done and dusted, are the Arts of the Saints
We look and wonder
Without actually seeing a yonder
How fair the impressions of brush and paints
Like pencils, they were, in His hands
To write and to draw
That, on which we now gaze with awe
And the Creator’s slates on which is scribed His artistic strands
Tested and proved, the science of the Saints
Though nature wants it soft
Rough and tough it’s as oft
And out of the crucible it stays devoid of taints
Yet they only mimed the One Masterpiece,
Mimesised the real Model
And gained the ‘saintly’ label
Love is the art; sacrifice the science
It matters; it’s what brought them there
The Master’s Arts,
The Creator’s Science
Get on the wings, but only if you care…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely well articulated poem, penned with insight in poetic diction. I like the rhyme scheme of the piece and the conviction of the poet. Love is the art; sacrifice the science. A nice piece of poetry. Thanks for sharing and do keep it up. Please read my poem MANDELA - THE IMMORTAL ICON.