In every moment
In every action
Clean pages
Clean hands
Are naked in his eyes
The ink
The paint
The charcoal
His hands are his pallett
His painting
His brush
When his hands are stained
He can breathe
He can be
They show everything he is
They are, he is
His masterpiece
Each stroke of the beauty he has made
Is contained
And written on his hands
They are the history he hates to erase
But loves to rewrite
Every moment of time
An artist sees beauty
In everything there is
And his hands are his piece of it all
They are a soldiers scars
A writers rough drafts
The bags of an endless night
Burn my books
But let me walk
With an artists hands
I will hold them to the light
To the sky
To the world
I can take my art with me
Wherever I go
And tell the world
This is who I am
An artist
With artist's hands
