On this canvas where I am but a small spatter
where a paint brush is spontaneously flung and
I hang on with dear life onto the fibers till I dry in time
and that brush then paints with different strokes and colors
around me and I become integral to the scene
captured by the creators eye and in his
imaginative vision I exist
Ah! You are a poet! (I answered you back at my blog, too.)
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