A man wanted to be a creator.
He started painting
with brushes full of colors
on canvases one after another
with his mind's musings galore.
So he became a painter.
The man wanted to be a creator.
Started singing from his heart
and carried on a sweet trace of melody
with his songs and his compositions.
It brought him name, fame and position.
He became a legend, a noted singer.
The man who wanted to be a creator
focused on stones and bronzes,
with chisels in hand started working,
for a change over to sculpture.
Bubbly and so lovely his artwork was
so he became a dignified sculptor.
So this man of parts
sure he was - but when asked
about the secret of his art,
'Nothing original I found in my work'
was his frank confession,
'Only a meek replication of
every great creation of Lord.
Indebted I'm to His Magnum Opus.
Oh. Lord! You are the supreme creator! '
Gautam Sen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/confession-of-a-creator/
