O, what a mess!
Stains of turpentine compounds
And a tang of inhumane chemicals and masculine sweat
Mingled in a sultry workroom

Legends eclipse and fade
Temperance wanting
A humor so infernal it stings like bees
Walls set ablaze with things spoken

But I relished the fresh nativities
Offspring of his fertile imagination
And the motif of turmoil and raw energy
Pour forth colors so warm a blind man can feel them

He taught us his craft
In life and death, a legacy was born and put to rest
And in the darkness of the ground, a seed was born
Til dawn broke forth like spring

Reality was made clear
As hidden treasures were found
Laying in the shadows of his workmanship and
Like dew upon the meadows, we wept tears of joy

 * * *

Shane Anderson / Copyright 2005