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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