A brand new page – there is something exciting about it. It is so inviting, enticing, mesmerizing, energizing; sends my mind reeling with dreams and visions – and, artistic ideas that could flourish into a masterpiece that will stand the test of time. The whiteness of a clean page like the innocence of a fresh canvas, asking and pleading to be used – but, most of all to be remembered. A tombstone serves no purpose, it cannot teach nor inspire anyone. In years come to come it will be broken by idiotic vandalism or Mother will grind it down to shambles and the memory, the aura, the feeling will be gone like a lost dream. Hope is what makes art, art; without it how could the miserable millions and wretched souls have the will to go on? A painting can tell stories; words can paint the sky in such a way the whole world will understand. Intermingled within the darkness shines a light so magnificent that it saves lives, brings people back from the brink, stays in the hearts of many, and lasts for eternity. How strange is it, that the intangible things in life truly last forever. Paintings will discolor, books will fall apart, but thoughts, or words last through the ages. The feelings, thoughts, and emotions evoked from art is what makes it forever lasting; when you die it still lives on through the magic of spoken word. Art lives and breathes and cries intermittently amongst societal and philosophical realizations as it mends hearts and pierces through grey reality showing repeatedly the meaning and importance of existence.