In the dark we weep sometimes,
forgetting that He still hears us.
Let the silent nights whisper sense
into the right earlobe of ours.
Sometimes,sense vanishes in air,
letting life to blur away till only
mosaic of colours appear in vision,
the mosaic that seem so artful.
That art we will never understand,
for art is only for the artist to know,
let not that blind us or stop us,
from trying to get to the bottom.
1245
-22/02/2011-
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