Touches of a Master

We are all merely brushstrokes, a pigment

on a canvas touched by the hand of a Master

our colours bleed out to explore

the subtler textures of this unknown genius

as abstract art goes, this is the birthplace

the final word, the all-encompassing closure

to see each morn the sunrise and sunset

each one, a masterpiece without flaws

it is only we who have imperfections

that’s airbrushed over in compositions new.

It is only we who, in our ever-changing oils 

develop a mindset of absolute indifference

ranging from intolerance, hatred, and love

when it is complete and framed, the seer

will proclaim, speak like a worldly prophet

here is a landscape of unequalled beauty

here is a place of peace tranquillity

framed without borders or wars

here is a portrait of a man without fears

who’s never been known to make errors or slips?