Blood, Sweat and Tears

A short poem of a mad artist that I met

Sang, sueur et larmes

I once met a painter.
He only drew in the darkest of nights,
under a faint candle light.
He would take a good look at his canvas,
and paint in thin strokes.
At first I saw no color from his brush.
But as he kept on driving the brush,
deeper and deeper
to his frail canvas
lines of bright crimson red
faint in the candlelight
would appear on his canvas.
He takes on a mad frenzy
and draws more and more.
Until his canvas is painted
with thin crimson lines.
And at the end
he would sigh in peace.
Only to take up the canvas again
in the darkest of nights
under a faint candle light.
To paint on top of his old canvas,
his frail canvas,
filled with half dried crimson lines,
“In pain I shall find peace”.