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It ends.

Be it characters,
letters or words,
We are all the same,
From wherever we came.

As the drop of ink,
inaguarates a feeling,
Something new is born,
something we have never seen.

It's a phenomenal combination
Never seen in a thousand years,
This creation is yours, and
yours only.

How such sentiment came upon,
is no matter of psychology,
The emotions in our heart,
are a breathe-taking mystery.

And dare I search the mystery
which I have felt,
time and time again.

Dare I explain my feelings,
It would never end,
as I have never felt exactly the same,
Once and again.

As the words go through me,
they splatter on canvas,
I have found the perfect colors,
and yet, I cannot end.

Our feelings wander,
lost and confused,
I am truly absent,
and so it ends.

matadorqk

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