The artist...

I'm inconsistent...

Like fog...

 I seem solid, but it's only an illusion.

I am unatainable, like the first ray of the morning sun.

Like an eagle that soars on the wind,

my emotions follow the weather, and my soul the seasons

When the sun shines I feel joy,

and the rain brings me sadness and melancholy..


In the spring I am like new....

A new life, new loves, and new worlds to discover.


And in the summer, my heart flies on the wind,

I live in the splendor of the sun, I grow,

and exalt in it's energy..


In autumn,

I shake off all of the old and uselless things,

that I have acquired.

I eliminate the things that weigh me down and slow my evolution.


And in the winter I rest...

I prepare myself for a new spring.

It's a time to remember the past year,

and to dream of the year to come.


The seasons pass,

sometimes all in the same day,

sometimes it takes more than a lifetime....

but they always pass...


I live my life in this world,

but I do not belong to her,

I am a traveler,

who watches and follows her through the eyes of a mask,

No one knows who or what I really am, and nobody cares.


I am an artist, a free spirit in a world full of slaves,

and all of this is part of me.

I know not if I see the world this way,

because I am an artist...

Or if I am an artist,

because I see the world this way....