The strokes of life burn within my paper

Seeping through the lines

Creating a sunder for the reaper

Those creases in your brow

Mark the rune of faith

Stand the bristling wind

And harness my shouting thunder

Those grips upon the paint

Color my work

From the black and grey outlines

To the wondrous mixtures of blue

To the hand that creates a poem

A life, a start, a new.