By Edward Taylor III
Watching atmosphere tears hit against the glass as I pass the time away considering the events of my day,
I start to realize the weight of troubles on my mind,
Trying not to stress I comfort myself knowing that I’m blessed,
But still there’s something else…?
A gift has been imparted to me, the remarkable ability to transfer pain, joy, love, & sorrow onto paper.
I understand that the gift I have received is one of many ways to explain the trials of life.
The emotions felt in every word are as sincere as the untainted love felt when a loving mother see’s her child for the first time.
I lookout scanning the dream like scene of trees dancing in the breeze, their leaves blending with the atmosphere tears, which fall from the sky above;
Then I hear the call, the same call my brothers & sisters hear when their gift beckons them,
It pull’s us into a realm of immeasurable creativity, inspiring works that will be etched onto the very tablet of time itself;
When our works are completed our emotions, our hearts, & our lives are then put on display.
You see us, you hear us, & you read us, this is who we are, gifts right there for the whole world to experience.
We are poets, song writers, musicians, & painters.
We are Artist…
We are Gifts…