The Artist

When people question ,

Does the creator exist,

It’s like the art is asking ( or questioning it’s own existense )

Does the artist exist,

It only happens when the art is self dwelled in itself that it forgot it’s own meaning and purpose of existence ,

Who does that and what kind of thought is it , more so as to why it is ,

Or is it a even a thought at all ,

And if it is than one should never stop seeking,

If any doubt of such a journey does even exist ,

Than try changing anything,

Just anything at all ,

Like change the form of the air ,

Try changing how we breathe ,

Try to change the existense of a small leaf ,

Create an insect,

We humans as art cannot even change a single thing nor the course ,

Neither its pattern or its creation,

All we do is replicate,

Than how can even shamefully deny the existense of the Artist itself ,

Who even gave us the expression of freewill and allowed us to even question it’s own existense ,

Besides who can grace us with such abundant of unconditional love

If not the Artist itself .