I have dipped my hands
in the well of all creativity.

I have marvelled at the
ethereal grace of Fonteyn.
Become lost to the world
through the music of Schubert.
Gazed in awe on the perfection
of Rodin; and become
transported to another place;
another age, by the exquisitely
detailed brush of Constable.

But none are more uplifting,
or more worthy in their creation
than the lines of a
perfectly crafted poem.

For it will flow across the
pages of time everlasting.
Be music to the eye.
An unchanging celebration
to the why of our existence;
and paint every colour the
mind can possibly imagine.