Contemplating Him

Sketching ,painting and colouring thedays of existence,

With a desire to brighten them

I filled in the wrong colours

Thinking to tear and renew, I stopped:

Some good combinations would be lost,

I found.

Deciding to amend few sketches,

I drew a tree flecked with birds

But i was sad:

I couldn't make them sing.

Frolicking around were few children

in my mind's masterpiece.

But,alas!

I couldn't hear their innocence

There was a temple in my potrait

Studded with ringing bells.

To dignify it i was selecting colours

When i realised,The greatest designer and painter

infusing life into His creation..

How could we say:

Life,its origin an unsolved mystery.

Disciples of the perfectionist

We are blinded towards our faults,

With the solemn powers vested in Him,

He could beautify his dull moves

Such is theintricacy of His work

That every masterpiece fails.

For the readers:technical here means in a brief or precise manner.