Cold Vibes

Art is a virtue Still life too realistic I see the cold insinuations Yet it too builds a wall With good intentions I push the brush And dip into lush hues Painting to my hearts consent Then words hush I sit in solitude as well And think Critiques are in my head It's LINE I define I break it up I continue to paint Changing definition instead I see space an element It grabs me I embrace my brush again It overwhelms me Painting hues I see the virtue It is my dream Though it may seem The artists hands Predominant The ideal See the painting Each stroke made it real And the desire It then became Evident.