Poetry

1. GREATEST ART
The greatest art was not in clambering unsurpassably coldblooded mountains; with
overwhelmingly poignant and adroit precision; barefoot,
The greatest art was not in stupendously encapsulating the beauty of the fathomless
cosmos; in threadbare sheets of barren paper; singlehandedly,
The greatest art was not in racing swanky cars on avalanches of heartless ice;
dexterously swerving an indefatigable number of times to degrees of extraordinarily
beautiful precision; naked bodied,
The greatest art was not in flying umpteenth kites at a single time; celestially
maneuvering countless strings of infinitesimal thread in gusty sky; towering
on the tip of your big toe,
The greatest art was not in erecting majestically palatial edifices in lightening seconds
of time; inundating boundless kilometers of arid landscape with indomitable concrete
jungles; in just a single breath,
The greatest art was not in astoundingly memorizing limitless jargons of patriotically
blazing literature; tirelessly reciting them to the entire planet; in just a single
flash of an eye,
The greatest art was not in adventurously diving to the rock bottom of the truculently
stormy ocean; sustain life amidst the satanic battalion of sharks and crabs beneath;
for times immemorial,
The greatest art was not in impeccably prognosticating the destiny of one and all on
this endless earth; astonishingly chronicling even the most minuscule of event to yet
unfurl; in bleary eyed dawn,
The greatest art was not in eclectically controlling an unfathomable horde of rampant
serpents; fearlessly entwining them all around your scarlet cheeks; without the
tiniest bead of sweat,
The greatest art was not in staring relentlessly at the profoundly blistering Sun;
dazzling into a patriotic saga of Herculean bravery; handsomely unfettered,
The greatest art was not in emulating every conceivable voice on this enamoring
Universe; with unconquerably marvelous artistry in the innermost chords of your
throat; like supreme Omnipotence sweeping all evil,

2. The greatest art was not in grazing insurmountable flocks of innocuous sheep in a
harmoniously single row; to the enigmatically magical movements of your nimble
fingers; in blissfully unassailable unison,
The greatest art was not in weaving countless lines of gloriously imperial literature;
fulminating even the most infidel ingredient of your blood; for the rhapsodically
untamed ocean of your versatility,
The greatest art was not in devouring even the most sordidly acrimonious stones;
digesting even the most hedonistically salacious of impediments; without a single
burp,
The greatest art was not in inhaling every speck of exhilarating breeze on this
invincible globe; inundating the cushion of your lungs with enchanting sensuousness;
for infinite more births yet to unravel,
The greatest art was not in brilliantly standing first at every cranny of existence;
Omnipresently solemnizing your diminutive countenance as the very best; till
centuries even beyond your veritable time,
The greatest art was not in flamboyantly embellishing your dreary countenance with
the most exquisitely fantastic satin on this planet; diffusing into a wave of
indefatigably priceless color on every step that you intricately tread,
The greatest art was not in infectiously triggering everyone around you into
whirlpools of insatiably hilarious laughter; metamorphosing every globule of
sullenness into an impregnable mountain of humanitarian smiles,
For as long as this exotically fructifying earth has existed; as long as God has chosen
organism to diffuse into an unendingly exuberant sea of tangy breath; as long as
symbiotically immortal love has blossomed in every holistic heart; the greatest art has
always been and will forever be; leading each moment of survival to the absolute
fullest; wholeheartedly accepting every shade of inexplicably fabulous life; just as it
unabashedly comes.