This is a poem about creation.


Creation


In his cold
loft,
a painter was standing
fascinated, in front of the canvas,
as if he'd prayed to
the invisible God.

When He created the world,
was He also
so lonely and fascinated?
Was His aim
fatherly love, too?




Poetry by Dejan
Read 451 times
Written on 2006-08-22 at 15:50

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Teala
Ah, deep..I think we all ask these questions atleast once in our lives..
2006-08-22