The Painter of Emotions

In a dim-lit studio, where shadows entwine,
An artist stands poised, with a palette divine,
Not of colors alone, but of feelings profound,
Each brushstroke a whisper, where emotions are found.

With a flick of the wrist, a tempest takes flight,
A swirl of deep blues, like the depths of the night,
Frustration erupts in a jagged, bold red,
While soft pastels cradle the words left unsaid.

Joy bursts forth in a riot of gold,
A sunbeam of laughter, a story retold,
Each stroke a heartbeat, each hue a sigh,
In the language of color, the soul learns to fly.

Sadness drips slowly, a melancholic gray,
A river of longing that won’t fade away,
It pools in the corners, where shadows reside,
A testament to love that once bloomed and died.

Anger ignites in a fierce, fiery blaze,
A canvas ablaze in a chaotic maze,
Yet from the ashes, a phoenix will rise,
Transforming the fury into something wise.

The artist, a vessel, a conduit of pain,
Translates the chaos, the joy, and the strain,
With each stroke, a story, a truth to impart,
A mirror reflecting the depths of the heart.

In the gallery of life, where emotions collide,
Art becomes solace, a place to confide,
For in every creation, a piece of us stays,
A testament to living, in myriad ways.

So let the colors dance, let the feelings ignite,
For in the realm of art, we find our true light,
In the strokes of the brush, in the silence of space,
We capture the essence of the human embrace.

- Khushi Kaul