Artist's Destiny

A poem by MC(Aurora)

"Destiny"

It's real miracle, the most realistic truth that he paints,
The world of his dreams on the tip of his brush,
But still he's someone else's slave and crave the freedom he got.
Born for the canvas but the brush choose the cracked broken walls,
To draw of pain, to claim the smiles through the darkness of empty space,
And though a drop of tear is absorbed, the beauty is still joy.
When the emptiness is still a colour, a true artist knows,
The hollow is still some space, that the brush find themselves,
The real wonder lies in those golden hands.
A heart of colors lost in mist, blissful memories of past,
And a plan of future in his creation,
A head for creations, a heart to love the art of life,
The way of strokes, the chosen way alone,
No matter how much he struggles,
How much he bears the pain,
He just wonders of joy and lives for the pleasure to blind eyes,
That don't see the pains.
He's the slave of those beauty seeking eyes,
That just miserably lose the faith in reality.
An artist is a free slave of pleasure, and joy,
That he gives back just because he's an Artist.