An artist takes his paint brush,
gently strokes an image on my mind.
A projected thought, a feeling
perfectly individual ideas entwined.

His hand moves easy and freely.
So steady. With reason. With grace.
Then suddenly goes faster and faster
Creating at an uncontrollable pace.

He lets everything flow from the bristles,
But, his work, once filled with truths
gets mangled with what could never be.
Still the beauty of the work ensues.

I try desperately to reason:
"What is this you've done? It's not real!"
He stops, sighs, and starts painting again,
images telling me to feel what I feel.

I nod, stare intently, walk back into my life,
Pretending to believe what he has said.
But still that brave little artist
Is stuck inside of my head.

03/27/2003

Posted on 03/27/2003
Copyright © 2026 Jared Winkler