Art

And there she spoke to me

The voice like dulcets

Persuasion her weapon

Surrender mine.

And then she said she would break free

For I was not to chain

The process of her becoming

By the power I had not in me

And then she rose higher

To peaks I couldn’t imagine

Yet irony I told her

That you wouldn’t be sans me

And then she smiled and glinted

Pitying my presumption

That as she reached her unfinished completion

While I searched for my seminal end

With a swoosh of my arm I surmised

I could bring her painful end

Inability or lack of will

One a euphemism for the other

With a splash of water I realized

I would smudge her fate to vanish

Paralyzed by my desire

Or searching reason still

My thoughts did sometimes wander

But her eyes beguiled me back

When I would search elsewhere

I found solace in her

But lest it not be shown

My ego got in way

Hers was much stronger
It was mainstay

I pleaded for her not

To ever become

For I was her creator

Not to let the masterpiece end

And then she chiseled the rest

Of her own did she become?

A thought that mastered her master

And brought a willful end