There are no straight lines in nature
the artist in me said
but my eye had failed to notice
a spider hanging by a thread.
The air we breathe is colourless
the scientist in me knew
but when the sun set that evening
it bled from red to blue.
The world is how I see it
but I know it can’t be true
life leads us all down different paths
each with a different view.
Is all art judged in the eye of the beholder and the society they inhabit?