A cauldron is out there bubbling, brimming
Clouds rising high, matching the crags & swoops coming up,
Rising all around. Signatures, apt fingers -
Dissolving as soon as grace takes hold.
Hasn't even unveiled its full might yet - the color!!
Oh such gorgeous grotesque drippings, cascading down,
Each stroke dancing brighter, the firelight (torturous, almost!) The joy..
Paintbrushes ready to capture, filaments
ready to render.
Yet who am I, alone on this easy trip?
Merry head felt high, guts placed out in a long line, and
Apollo, in His triumph arises,
pushes himself laughingly up, to the left,
then other side pushing such bars, such impulses aside.
Splitting the day apart with insistence. I, merely to stoop
and cower, and render, and... and... and...
There is a crown now - pushing, giving birth to the brightness
the light, the hope now rising in a heart.
Even the waves, the edges of my sight they turned.
The mists above, so much swirling, ever circling.
(It takes my breath away..)
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