I used to find it
queer how a few strokes of the brush
on a piece of paper made the finest of arts.
It is not the brush, they told me, it is the artist who knows how & where to put his strokes who makes the finest of arts.

They found it queer, how everyone thought that love will make the world a better place.
It is not love, I told them, it is the ones who know how & when to give out love, to the ones whose hearts have not known love and light & thereby makes their lives better, who will make the world a better place.


© Dustytruck


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