In the quiet whispers of the night,
Colors dance in the canvas of dreams,
Brushes blend the shadows and light,
Crafting worlds from endless streams.
Sculpting thoughts from clay and stone,
Hands move with a rhythmic grace,
Each curve and line finely honed,
A journey etched in time and space.
Words flow like rivers on the page,
Ink becomes the voice of the soul,
Telling tales of joy and rage,
In every verse, we become whole.
Creativity, a boundless sea,
Where imagination freely flies,
Art, the compass that sets us free,
A mirror reflecting our inner skies.