Poem: Fact



And so you paint,
each tube somehow colorless,
smudges on canvas that lack life,
and still,
you paint.

This is your life,
forcing color from your grey world
by sheer insistence
that it exists
whether you can see it
or not,

persistence more valuable
than talent,
building a shell of paint and canvas
that has the patience to wait
for inspiration.

For you have seen it happen,
seen God’s breath
create life from dust
in your own life,
and so you know it is not a matter of faith,
but fact.

About this poem

The word inspiration comes from a root that means “God Breathed”. Which is why I believe in it even when I am not feeling it.


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