Each of us is a unique strand in the intricate web of life and here to make a contribution

That is a quote by Deepak Chopra, and here is my contribution to the Craft Barn's 9th Q&L challenge!

The words this time are FAME and UNIQUE.  Why not visit the CB blog (here) to check out the other entries.

The first thing that came to mind was the song from Fame (I'm sure I wasn't alone in that!).  I then found the quote from Deepak Chopra, and considered using that, until I found a fabulous poem - The Crayon Box - with no attributed author.  It is rather a long one, so I've just included the last four lines on my page, but here is the poem in its entirety.

While walking in a toy store 
The day before today,
I overheard a Crayon Box
With many things to say.
I don't like red! said Yellow.
And Green said, Nor do I!
And no one here likes Orange,
But no one knows quite why.
We are a box of crayons
that really doesn't get along,
Said Blue to all the others.
Something here is wrong!
Well, I bought that box of crayons
And took it home with me
And laid out all the crayons
So the crayons could all see
They watched me as I colored
With Red and Blue and Green
And Black and White and Orange
And every color in between
They watched as Green became the grass
And Blue became the sky.
The Yellow sun was shining bright
On White clouds drifting by.
Colors changing as they touched,
Becoming something new.
They watched me as I colored.
They watched till I was through.
And when I'd finally finished,
I began to walk away.
And as I did the Crayon box
Had something more to say...
I do like Red! said the Yellow
And Green said, So do I!
And Blue you are terrific!
So high up in the sky.
We are a Box of Crayons
Each of us unique,
But when we get together
The picture is complete.

Anon

The background is made up of some torn book pages and a little paste through a stencil.  I then brayered some acrylic paint.  I included the dimension of paste as I wanted to create that halo effect when brayering paint over it, to leave some white areas.

The little people are holding balloons that contain the last four lines of the poem.  The balloons are cut from a waste piece of card that had been spritzed with mica mixtures.

PS:  I've just discovered this poem was written by Shane DeRolf.