A makers hand falls slowly towards it's creation
Striking down the imperfection slowly taking form
Move slowly in your finite existence
There's a great big world waiting to be implored
Paint touched the canvas like new lovers' first kiss
Yet time strains beauty into a distant shoreline moving further out to sea
All our swimming seems in vain
As the undertow pulls us further still away
Is there any way to restore this canvas back to new?
Will we ever see the beauty shining through?
O' Painter, do not in haste destroy the good that you've made
Your hard work has not passed completely unnoticed
Take hold of your anger and channel it into your masterpiece creation
And present to the world your glorious splendor
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