Painters

We are painters without paint

Mixing the colours in our mind

Glance upon our palettes

And black ink is all you will find

But from its depths we pull

A written sky of brightest blue

Swirling drops of dreams

Into the things we know as true

With just the flicker of our wrist

We can make the moonbeams sing

Spill golden rays of sunrise

Over all of everything

We can conjure calm or chaos

By just willing it be so

Pave roads to where your thoughts

Have never realised they could go

Our pens can pull you on a journey

On a pilgrimage, a quest

Drag you through your darkest hours

And then blend them with your best

So when it ends you stumble backwards

In shock to find it’s black and white

We are painters without paint

And that’s the reason why we write

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