Flick the brush,
From here to there,
Pointing species,
Dull and rare,
To hideaways and rivers' gush,
Gentle, true,
But what a rush!

Power trips the finger's pace,
Across the ever-looming face,
Of cosmic panoramas new,
Or oceans deep and verdant blue,
"To think I've found my niche",
I call amongst the stars, so very few

Strike the hammer to the world,
Imagination comes unfurled,
In pulsing rhythms, they now hurl,
At me the bulk of Heaven's churl,
"You've wasted seven days",
They chant,
"Though now it's time to paint a swirl!"

With blue, green and white, I ******
Towards a dream with little lust,
But quickly my mistake is found,
And lost throughout the artful sound,
Of clashing blades and bitter crowns

I fake a breath to earn the death,
I've sealed within this crass display,
Pressing precious feet to flames and leading men to disarray,
I fooled my hands to guide the way,
But now I simply kneel and pray,
To sculpt this world for one more day...