Frank Prem

way poem #15: I, creator

the brush
that touched the page
was a revelation

 

from blank
into hues that started life
for a picture of the world
spun blue and white
suspended in jet
littered with sparkles
and pinpoints

 

glancing
who can tell
what wonder the artist
of that world has wrought
on the land
down in the oceans
high up above
and deep into the sky

 

another page
another pen
another colour
and
another closure of the eyes
to peer within

 

there

 

another palette
that holds every colour
I
could ever need

 

~