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Birth
My sketches are a transference of space
Looping in a continuum of understanding and information
Understandable in any language
Ending the big question for the last time in the
Voluptuous body of my drawing form.
I work and I stare and I function as an artist
Sharing my wisdom in the universal language of artistic expression
I present my beautiful, perfect, and lovely work before the crowd
And beam out into the silence that welcomes me.
They work and they stare at how well I function as an artist
And they struggle to interpret my wisdom and artistic expression,
To understand my language,
And to answer the big question;
Before finally scraping my work and tossing it out
With the rest of the incomprehensible artistic squalor
That has infested our society without the audacity
To stand the test of time.
Only giants may rule in the world of arts,
The vivid profiles of Michelangelo and Madam Lisa
Only gargantuan bodies of paint and acrylic and steel
And clay and rock and stone.
Only Giants.
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