Art Making

Fairy dust,
flying so fast.
You glow like a fire,
yet still tire.

Your blues turns blood,
and blood became art.
Artistic mind,
thoughts I admired.

You won't let fear paralyzed you,
turning pages—
blankness doesn't scare you,
and a pen you didn‘t cage,
a pen that leads you to your stage.

A sketch you want to follow,
it‘s okay to have hollow,
plans is better when shallow,
disappointment turns low.

Never been misfit,
your colours don't have a pit,
it suits the page well,
wondering how do you do well.

Finalizing the art,
imagining a life you want to be part.
Results are amazing,
yet process is fascinating.

Art making,
self finding.
Isn‘t it fulfilling?
to finally meet your beginning, and ending.