Sand stones of art.

On the stand of this marble do I sit, in deep astonishment, thinking about different colours of this life of mine. About how we friends used to sit around in our tender years, teasing one another through talks about their girl friends and crush. How the learnings use to tune in, how the teacher entered and how we celebrated the beauty of dancing. Our expressions were given a form that our inner potentials exulted on deep admiration of the surroundings and the lovely beings, who saw us as brothers, sisters and friends. The marvel of our expectations to find our greatest teacher in the 'Dance Room', of our school rose and cultivated higher and higher, when we were desirous to dance, find a person in us, who converses his emotions with the society, fellow beings. The skills which stood this counter were most alluring, for children know not how to cast nets, but they are wishful to know the same, when they grow up and are no longer children. Maybe in that transition of we children being bigger and bigger children, also grew in us curiosity to take in the notions of skills. Children mostly find happiness from everywhere, because innocence pervades in them as a royal bliss, that is autonomous in it's service of taking in affection and prosperity. Keeping that innocence, makes our place in society crucial, for we understand, the care to be offered to a person in need.Our positive reflections, buzzed a satisfying sound, telling us, we were silently sliding into adulthood but we have kept our richness, in form of innocence. It creates us, speaking what we are, and converses us with audience. This is art, and it's purest form, that we need to concord upon. Performing well in life, is possible when our art exults its power and reaches to masses.Today I sit on the marbles, that are same stones, and not painted or greased. But they are as sober and beautiful, as were in those days, the old days of childhood, that ought to happen once in a lifetime. But yes, we can feel the touch of that innocence, bestowed upon is in bounty, through the dance in our dance room, being followed up is which today.The very caring teachers, have grown with age, as we have and we feel it. But again, looking at them it doesn't feel, they are old, for their curiosity has only increased, and their face is more beautiful, with a lot of grace they have embodied on their supreme self, with blessings of the almighty and love of their students, their own children. Our hearts link with love, and this is the little part of our story of art and it's formation in our cells, through our greatest, respectable teachers.