Future Gallery Poem by Arno Le Roux

Future Gallery

It's a peculiar thing to retreat and behold

Not knowing which colour is better sold

To mix your decisions colours astray

Arive at God's own pace the gallery delay

You hold a framed work blue is the frame

See strokes of youth ruling your game

Once mixed dark colours no thought applied

There was no erasing on madness relied

But bright yellow brushes governed each day

Who without fail came dark ones to slay

You oft again failed yellow daily to thank

Met somewhere the dark blue hours to bank

While hands from elsewhere paint red in your sleep

You paint and you paint the balance to keep

Travelled with brushes your deeds to outlay

There in God's gallery amongst others display

Arno Le Roux 2015