It takes only one moment,
one single event, or focus,
to touch the inner genius,
to make it spit up and out;
All artists know it,
enraptured by the simple truth
that lays, naked, before them;
With their brush, or pen, or musical note
They expose the unprotected;
With each word, or stroke, or note,
they create an arm, a leg, a breast,
each subsequent stroke, their best;
To touch truth,
to feel its pulse
within the very object that they view; or,
as a result of some great loss,
is to know the simple, solitary fact
that life is real, not an act.
