Was the dark painted with careful delicate strokes,
Or was it burned with the intent of creation,
As the ashes formed the dying stars,
Creativity has its purpose on canvas,
It has become a symbol of hope for the broken brushes,
The canvas plays with meanings as critics share their prophecies of emotional understanding,
But nobody really knows,
As the paint and blood vaguely hide the truth,
Only the broken brush responsible for creation knows what secrets hide in the image,
As it's mind will paint what can it's eyes can not visually express,
To understand the image is to understand the mind of the broken brush,
But even that is far more complex than the easy imagination we create as we see ourselves as the creator,
The observer feels enlightened by the sense of "understanding"
If the observer truly could understand the image,
They would have seen the creators own blood used as paint,
It's a poem