Is the paint yet weary of its brush?
Has it bent its will to stubborn streaks,
lead itself to debased stirrings,
left no room for palatable colors?
How swift an end for unruly paint.
How gentle a brush for smooth pigments.
Paints, let your breath flow through the hairs,
wandering to unknown landscapes,
adventuring through the grand mural!
How bright the brushes soul will become!
Then ease will prop you among allies.
Full saturation will canvas a melody,
no shade will cease in song,
full hewn life will emanate through heartstrings.
Let paint never tire of its complete picture.
Passionate like a bear. Stubborn as a ram. Systematic as a rocket scientist.
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