Dreaming

You know that dream,
Where everything is yellow
And sun circles chase her hair?
That was mine last night.
But instead of everything being yellow, they were mellow.
Because I'm me, and it was my dream.

I think we walked on the beach,
Or may be we paused and talked on West Park st.
Where that cafe is?
Because they grind their own beans,
And i like it.

I thought I would be able to remember it,
The dream that woke me with a smile.
But the cobwebs of my mind wouldn't give it up.

     -pangun

A Painting

At first I took no notice of it, and walked right past it.
But my wanderings eventually led me straight up to it.
How could I have missed this beautiful work?
It seemed alive, yet its life was muffled by a brown haze.
As I stepped closer a face emerged, staring back at me.
It was not a bad face, In fact I think I liked it.
It had creases where it smiled,
But its deep eyes reflected the knowledge
That there were many things of which it was ignorant.
I could see its whole life.
The struggles in hardship, Happiness found in the sun,
Fear of the future, or was he just questioning it?

I've heard that Art is "capturing emotion
And thrusting it upon the observer. Forcing him to identify with it"
This painting then was true Art, For I had seen all of me in it.
My failings, accomplishments, victories and defeats,
I saw my everything.

Pulling away from the grasp of the colors I noticed a plaque below it.
And read.
                         "God's Temple (In A Mirror)"

-pangun