The brush makes the line
While you hold it in your hand.
Delicate, smooth.
Creation
Of mine.
Now you know where to walk on.
Like a pattern cleverly designed
A child cheating on a test
Of life.
Giving life to imagination
Like a mage creating out of spirit.
Little conjurer
Of time.
Giving matter forms
Through it you are forged
In love, from love.
In time.
With water below
And fire within yourself.
Body and breath
Blood and soul.
Oneness.
A circle
A cycle
A line.
