On my bedroom wall hangs a piece of art
It was a present from my late dad
It's been there for years, almost half decade
It has been left neglected, like no one ever notices it
And it has become old and the beauty is fading fast.
Today while I lay in bed lost in a sea of thoughts
I just wandered my sight off to the art
And a lot ran through my now fatigued mind
How fast time moves, not leaving traces
How negligent I had become, of such a gift
I just couldn't believe that in half a decade,
I had never once thought of looking at that piece.
I took it down and dusted it clean of the cobwebs
For over the years spiders had made it their home
I marveled at the simple beauty it held
So lost in it, I sunk with the finest details.
The two birds on the art, seemed just so wrong together
Yet they're what made the paint have its beauty
I laughed at the stupid thought crossing my mind
A silver bird and a crested flycatcher together
This artist must have been ridiculous.
But then again I thought, what if he wasn't being ridiculous?
What if he was passing a coded message?
Why would anyone do it this differently?
Why did my papa choose this art and not any other?
What if he was telling the beauty of diversity?
What if he was reprimanding something in the language of art?
But what if all this interpretation was wrong?
What if he was actually being ridiculous with his art?
The questions became too many, with no apparent answers...
So I sat down and tried to relieve the moment
Of the artist who painted the art work...
It wasn't easy because my work was shoddy
But it gave me a lot of insight.
He wasn't being ridiculous, not at all
He was communicating to his audience
In the only language he knew best how
He was giving a life lesson, only to those who understood
The plain talk behind the language of art.
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