Up, down, back and forth,
the pencil makes its journey;
and leaves its tracks from where it wandered.

Grind, erase, move and scratch.
The controller desires perfection and redemption,
a concept that devours time away.

The artist's eye flashes with delight and
continues to study with everlasting eagerness with mounds of precision,
searching desperately for mistakes like a rat who starved for days.
Perfection is seeked throughout,
however the concept of "perfect" is intriguing,
for there is no absolute state of perfection.

A mistake is a spark close to oil,
once they touch they create a horrendous fire.
Fire is a monster that swallows almost everything;
plain ashes mark it's path of destruction.
Mistakes trigger a fire that steals attention,
silent as a phantom thief,
yet flamboyant like a flamingo.

Occasionally mistakes go unnoticed,
they are ninjas with shadows standing on guard.
Only a masterful trained eye catches swiftly,
it is fixed with the unyielding precision that is of a sword’s blade.

A gleam of overall satisfaction appears,
the artist’s definition of perfection has been achieved.
Grinning widely like the Chesire cat,
she signs her name and puts her sketch book away gingerly.
Until next time, my colorful and wonderful companion.
 
                                      ~owari~