A bare canvas cannot grace the gallery,
and solely a vacant amphitheatre applauds the painters
who refrain from staining their fingers,

the ones who shudder at just the flawed tint,
rage at one stray stroke,
and wince when colours slightly choke.

But when the palette drains the last drop of paint,
a canvas clad in imperfect hues
remains superior to the isolated one drawing in blues.