The white canvas trembles with mania at the sight of the brush.
The vessel is overthrown by the feeling of both love and lust-
The canvas is now a passionate red.
A mockery of art, or the preliminary action of birth?
The brush swirls like a bee buzzing around in search of a delicate white daisy in the midst of Spring.
The palette's colors have been mixed,
What a mess.
Nothing was planned, there was no set motive.
The Artist has created Life.