Letters twenty-six
Words few, plenty
Plots, rhymes intended
A story, a poem at last made
Breeze effortless
coursing through reeds
Melody unlike any,
song sans words or writing
Dabs, drops, strokes of brush,
Colours and patterns varied
Portraits, abstracts, vistas mirroring
canvas on easel waiting
A whale making an arc
over the horizon
bisecting the setting sun
across the palette of brine
Steps, curves,
moves impossible.
Grooving hard,
lithe as able
A blade of grass
swaying in the wind
Dance of abandon
only nature can be
Caught between words,
canvas and dance floor
Contraptions and inventions
to mime the nature
Artist capable,
tools able,
Yet the art man-made
remains empty and unable
to capture
even a moment
unsullied
A promise broken
again and again
of art becoming the artist
Man distanced from the nature
without, within
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