Shattered seconds stretch and flex into passing hours;
As black ink bleeds thru thin white space;
As unspoken sentences dance in the dust;
As the artist’s pen rests on the crest of the wave,
Perched like gulls—hungry and hunting;
As the broken clock laughs, filling space with an echo of time;
As the Creator dips his brush;
And, painted words drip,
And fill,
And bleed…
And, Art is born.