The ones that shape piles of words
into beautifully crafted books,
the ones that draw from reservoirs of colours
to create breathtaking paintings,
the ones that arrange beautiful notes
into music so sweet and sublime,
the ones that are blessed with genius
who transcend the motion of time.
The ones who leave this turning Earth,
when the flesh is withered and the blood dry,
bequeath their melodies, colours and words
and they will never, ever die.