Friday, December 17, 2021


A tiny speck of ink blot on the corner,
the writer's furious expressions.
A splash of paint that fell on the floor,
As an artist agressively articulated an art.

I am the nothingness that was born.
A catalyst between the maker and made.
A bridge between the seeker and seen.
A tiny particle lost, so as to find meaning.

So humble me my lord,
ground me to the earth.
Let me not weigh my ignorance,
and die before death kisses my lips.

Picture from Khalil Gibran's exbition at House of Wisdom

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