I stood there, almost mesmerized,to watch his fingers fly,
His hands creating miracles right there before my eye.
A touch of red, a swipe of blue, some yellow, white and green
The chalk created works of art like I had never seen.

DaVinci in a tye-dye shirt held court for all to see,
The sidewalk of a busy street his only tapestry.
Oblivious to those who watched, the sidewalk artist drew
As castles, kings and gardens sprung like magic into view.

At last, the final line was drawn. The artist stood and bowed
Receiving praise and dollar bills from his admiring crowd.
I stood, applauding with the rest, at such a grand display
Then grabbed the sidewalk artist's arm before he walked away.

"Your work is great", I smiled at him, "A wonderful display"
"But look! Storm clouds are moving in. The sky is turning gray."
"Before too long a driving rain will turn your work to ruin!"
"Don't matter none", the young boy said. "The joy is in the doin'".

..and, sure enough, the hard rains came and wiped the sidewalks clean.
The beauty of the artist's work was nowhere to be seen.
That night, beneath the covers, many thoughts ran through my head.
I thought about my life and what the sidewalk artist said.

My life had been a sidewalk mural, silhouettes in chalk,
From all the things that I had done and paths that I had walked.
Decision making, right and wrong, came slowly into view
And all the things I hadn’t done that I had hoped to do.

Relationships both came and went, some happiness, some pain.
Some sections had been washed away by tears instead of rain.
I thought of friends and family that left this world behind
And how their passing left unanswered questions in my mind.

Was there a point?, I asked myself, some everlasting worth
To justify what I had done while visiting this Earth?
The end result turns out the same, no matter what we’ve done.
Regardless of our actions, we are here and then we’re gone.

Achievements that we may have made will one day fade from view
And everyone that we had known will follow that end, too.
So what’s the point of happiness as something we can’t save
But leave behind when it’s our call to slip into the grave?

I searched for answers, lying there, to find a point of view
Recalled the artist’s smile and how his agile fingers flew
Creating masterpieces that were destined to be ruin
And I found my answer in his words – the joy is in the doin’.