A Wall is a Canvas

To some, a wall is a divider
between here and there,
between the then and now.
To some, a wall is a divider
between ideologies and philosophies
between men and boys.
To others, a wall is a canvas.
A canvas on which a masterpiece can be created,
a canvas on which the portrait of a genius can be crafted.
A canvas on which the landscape of the mind can be set down.
A canvas on which the landscape of the world and others can be revealed.

To some, the mind is a computer
that analyzes and abstracts,
that makes things logical.
To some, the mind is a computer
that rationalizes and calculates,
that sustains and is fragile.
To others, the mind is Humanity.
Where ideas are made, and events predicted,
where people are understood and remembered.
Where science and art are born,
where beauty is decided.

To some, the eye receives,
receives the world and gives it to the mind;
receives the beauty of a girl and the comfort of the stars.
To some, the eye receives
visions of dreams and angels,
visions of mountains and valleys.
To others, eyes are fountains.
Fountains that spew images of skies and oceans,
fountains that spew images of rivers and lakes.
Fountains that spew images of beauty and loveliness,
fountains that spew images of tongues and lips.

To Some, the tongue is a muscle
to taste the food of the body,
to taste the fuel of the mind.
To some, the tongue is a muscle
to insult your playmate,
to insult your bestfriend jokingly.
To others, the tongue is a tool.
A tool to aid in a little creation,
a tool to probe the missing tooth.
A tool to probe a lover’s body,
a mate to a lover’s tongue.

To some, a hand is a body part
that can hold and move an object,
that can lift and push an object.
To some, a hand is a body part
that can move its parts,
that can hold the body’s weight.
To others, the hand is a machine, a delicate thing;
that can shape wood and stone,
that can feel the cool water and warmth of fire.
A delicate thing that can feel her skin and play a masterful riff,
a delicate thing that can lift a people up and hold a badluck hand.

To some, a wall is a divider
between here and there,
between the then and now.
To some, a wall is a divider
between ideologies and philosophies
between men and boys.
To others, a wall is a canvas.
A canvas on which a masterpiece can be created,
a canvas on which the portrait of a genius can be crafted.
A canvas on which the landscape of the mind can be set down.
A canvas on which the landscape of the world and others can be revealed.