In frames of mind,
landscape of space.
Curious to find,
strokes without a trace.
The Author unknown,
yet felt all around.
Beauty it has shown,
and a soul we have found.
To live as admirers,
stunned at its creation.
Worshiping art's wonders,
and the Universe in completion.
Anonymous to some,
yet God to others.
How came the first sun,
Mother of all mothers.
A question that dwells,
within each of our hearts.
The answer that tells,
with the question is how it all starts.
copyright@2006 by Mark Anthony St. Rose. All rights reserved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem