Sprinkling Colours Into Hearts

If I was to grow wings..

I will fly up, high into the heavens..

Paint a Picasso in the sky,...

Wash my brush off colours..

And sprinkle freely from it..

Onto the hearts of earth,..

Putting more colours in days..

Self portrait;..

And to have been born..

Into absolute beggary..

Will I be the same person..

I am in presence ...

Imagine..

If I had no legs to foot path..

Nor eyes, to see past..

No nose to smell scent..

Nor ears to hear song..

Will I still have been known..

By half the people I know today..

And find my way to loves den..

I now realize, I am with wings..

And this is my Picasso onto skies..

Sprinkling colours freely off my brush...

Into this here, earth’s hearts..

This is my Piscasso to you

With warm, warmth attached 

This is my Picasso to the world 
Painted with poetry of words 
Metaphor of reasoning, as my Picasso to you