legabriel's Journal

A sprinkling of words,

A splash of color,

A dash of grace,

An empty page comes alive.

I cannot separate the forms of art.

For me they intertwine.

A line forms a picture

Whether it be of words

Or plain simple lines.

Music is something more

Like the air we breathe,

Gentle and kind,

Harsh and real,

Touching, but untouchable.

Something sometimes so solid

You long to hold it,

Yet,

Like a dream,

It drifts and fades

Becoming a part of us

We do not see.

Back to the page

Once empty,

Now almost full,

Like our lives.