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| courtesy - google |
From
a long distance, with a better eye sight, I saw a painting. At the first sight I fell in love as its
beauty saw me into pieces. It’s an art
painted by a veteran hands. The color selection was most perfect, the background
was at its best, and the wardrobe to the character in the painting was
ravishing.
This
picture was of an ilk that which makes its creator to jump in vanity; a true
masterpiece. There is no match to this
piece of wonder for there is no match for any masterpieces. Every art is unique, incomparable as it is a
broken part from the heart of its creator.
What you see in a wonder art is just not a creation but the urge and
passion of the artist.
This
painting glimmered from the distance I saw.
He has painted an angel which we only heard about, which we only
read. She is an angel without
wings. I could see her countenance
flittering like a star in the dusk, her slender body illuminating like a planet
in night; and as a picture as a whole emitting the effulgent light of the
creator.
I
walked closer to take a deep look at the painting. O! My holy creator! It is not a painting but
a statue of an angel.
…a
statue of an angel; sculpted by the world’s most skilled sculptor. From head to toe the creator imbibed all his
passion. Also, I doubted: if he has created one such statue as a result of his
obsession to see a real beauty.
From
some roaming star in the space, a new born sun, the material for the statue was
selected. The ravishing hairs looked
like a dense forest with a pavement in the middle lit with the light of the
moon. Those enchanting eyes mesmerized
anybody that looked at, and hypnotized everyone to fall in love with this
enchantress. And that dimple in the
cheek made anybody to slip and fell and mesmerizes to get up not from it.
They
flamboyant smile she carried suffices any heart that were in search of
happiness. The lines on her lips said a
short story of beauty and lust. The
carvings of her body, her slender physical appearance made any male a
malevolent. Words could explain those
carvings, that aroma of romance around her, but it takes hundreds of years to
finish writing.
…the
toe was sculpted to make it stand on the water, to float, to walk over it. The wardrobe added luminescence to the
statue. The color white of her dress
reflected the light, her inner light. I
wondered: is it a statue of beauty or a broken piece of moon.
I
neared a little to see the ravishing beauty closer. My eyes got stuck to her, eyelids wanted to
shut my eyes to protect it from dryness but I resisted closing to protecting my
heart from dryness.
And
finally, when I neared, she said “Hi”
