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Description
He held up the picture and waited
for it to speak for itself. But nothing was said,
not a stir. So he began:

"We know all about the paint." His steps were sure.
"It is everything that we see, mixed in myriad ways
and played out on a gamut of strokes."
He paused to admire the technique, and
a smile flitted across his face.

"But we can only look so close, and understand so much
until we must consider the canvas." He bristled with excitement.
"It is meaningless to us without the paint,
but look how it catches the light,
leads the colour. We know how, but not why."

Silence. His face nearly fell.

"We have the details: a splash here,
a simple and elegant outline there,
but the man who describes the whole picture must be a god."
Before he could lose heart, or falter in his rhythm,
he asked in a voice burdened with awe:
"And what of the artist?"

The professor cast his eyes all around the room,
over empty row
after empty row
that day as any other.

Description
He held up the picture and waited
for it to speak for itself. But nothing was said,
not a stir. So he began:

"We know all about the paint." His steps were sure.
"It is everything that we see, mixed in myriad ways
and played out on a gamut of strokes."
He paused to admire the technique, and
a smile flitted across his face.

"But we can only look so close, and understand so much
until we must consider the canvas." He bristled with excitement.
"It is meaningless to us without the paint,
but look how it catches the light,
leads the colour. We know how, but not why."

Silence. His face nearly fell.

"We have the details: a splash here,
a simple and elegant outline there,
but the man who describes the whole picture must be a god."
Before he could lose heart, or falter in his rhythm,
he asked in a voice burdened with awe:
"And what of the artist?"

The professor cast his eyes all around the room,
over empty row
after empty row
that day as any other.