One Stroke After Another (Written October 26)

One Stroke After Another


Every gesture, however ill-advised

And ill-conceived, brought to life

Something that had not till then existed.


Everything lived in the moment,

Or not at all. Whatever resisted

This movement through time and space


He brushed aside, like flakes

Of dried paint, in the race

To completion. One stroke


Brought forth another stroke,

And so on, until he woke

From his trance, as surprised


As anyone at what he had done.

It was not the finished canvas he prized,

But the way the brush cut like a knife.

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