A crystal dewdrop twinkles in the sun
A little furry spider weaves his web.
He’s intertwining, overlapping; spins
and spins to make, to shape, and to create
a simple work of tranquil beauty. He’s
just like the painter with his brush in hand
and a white canvas before him, he will
create when inspiration strikes, but for
now, he will simply watch, observe the light
that dances on the haystacks, that plays in
your eyes, that surrounds you with warmth, the light
embraces nature with its touch. He smiles
and paints with pastel colors, gently, he
puts vivid images, visions from his
mind on to canvas. How serene, a work
of art. He paints and paints from day to night,
just watching the waves, the stars, the life that
goes by. He sees, he paints, and he creates.
Just like the writer with his special quill
pen, who puts words on paper, which brings things
to life. He writes and writes from dawn to dusk
of people, places, and weird events. He
shares heartfelt emotions, his joy and pain,
his dreams and hopes. He shares his fantasies;
he beckons words to come alive. He writes,
he types, he makes, he shapes, and he creates
through time and space, eternal, just like God.
Whisperings 