aRt

In a world that has a baby screaming on arrival
It’s family taking turns at his departure
A coping mechanism is needed…Art!

Amid the consuming pile of suffering, hopelessness, decadence, wars, disasters, tensions, fears, meaninglessness…Sadly, space has insufficient room to contain the list
Art provides the ultimate escape

Art ingeniously knits beauty out of the strands ugliness
Erecting order on a foundation of chaos
Harmonious sounds from the noise of anarchy

Art is the life that pushes through emotional rubbles
That sprouts from the ash heap of broken dreams and disappointment
Which abundantly litter the field of life

Art can be made anywhere:
In Africa- smoldering from civil wars and disease epidemics
Middle east striving for peace
America grappling with paranoia, afraid of it’s own shadows
Russia shivering from symptoms of the cold war

Art is the healing balm that reaches deeper than the doctor’s medicine
The analgesic that dulls the pain of reality
The cushion that softens the impact of man’s stumble on life’s road

Art sucks off the poison from the circulation
For the artist, thinning the clot
For the art lover, giving a rush of blood

Art discriminates on no race
Its pictures are painted with white, black, red, yellow, brown…
All it’s colors blending into a harmonious hue

Art is the pillow on which weary heads lie for comfort
Giving them occasion for dreams
Dreams of a better world- a world of infinite possibilities

When Earth in the beginning began
It was dark, formless and void for lack of art
So God said, “Let there be art…and there was art”