Barren of prepared intentions,
Willing to quiet his own voice,
With a tabula rasa stance,
The artist kneels down
As an act of Love and wonder,
Waiting for a Gestalt,
To infiltrate in his perception.
He senses the Movement of Life,
As it whistles its symbols
In the hiatus of the substratum,
At the base of a form's spine
Which starts to augment and elongate.
Unconcerned with sculpting the right proportions,
Lucky to have witnessed this live individuation,
Bows to the unseen master of content,
Which gifts us this eclectic fullness,
Burring his heart,
In the origin of all things,
The Unified Field.
Topic(s) of this poem: art, genesis, life, love
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