HIGH HOPES

If I were a sculptor, the first thing carved is that beautiful curve, Not the one in your wishful thinking, 'a smile' on its face that would calm any sensitized nerve. Have you ever seen someone create a heart, brain or skin for a statue? No isn't it, but still we continue to stare at the lifeless residue that too in a queue. Maybe because deep down, reminds us of the forgotten human value. The sculpture may not possess a mind or soul of its own, But a reflection of its creator kind and passion, like amber coal deep down. Only the artist knows the imperfections in his art, Just comparable to the focus on perfection, in every part. The crowd stare at the statue for a sense of relief, And that's when it sticks, forming an unshakable belief. No matter how deep you are lost in the echoes of cochlea, Never forget to cherish the basal ganglia. You may not be your own creator, Undoubtedly your very own sculptor. Before forgetting and attempting to learn from a statue, how to smile, Forget the feelings and notions for a while, Don't become distant by a mile, After all, we were all created by destiny's artistic style PRMDR