"Uneven Dexterity"
(9-7-02)

My blank canvas lies before me
With potential for beauty and art
Waiting for the creative strokes
From deep within my heart.
The trouble of choosing the colors
To adorn my empty slate
With harmony and truthfulness
Is something not so innate.
As my fingers mark the plane
With uneven dexterity
Some moments contain great genius
And unparalelled creativity.
But, as it is, more often than not,
Emptiness is what I find
When searching for the "proper" form
Or for the "perfect" line.
But as time goes on and the color's applied
And the beauty begins to flow
I begin to produce what I feel
Rather than what I know.
So in the end, if I let it,
And set my spirit free
I'll step away and I will find
What I created was the real me.