Upon the canvas blank
Touched by a supple brush
Every word a colour
Purposely painted
Extension of emotions
That are a composition
A portrait painted in print
Phrases left blending
To create hues of wonder
Without meter, or restriction
Unrestrained by men
Who enforce themselves
Blinded by their egos
Amid labels touching id
To predify another's words
A composition's wonder
That translated treachery
Overshadowed by self
Ill equipped for sentiment
For feelings of expression
Unable to comprehend so
Empathy's mixture dear
With experience's vision
Make for a force courageous
Hence too n'er been realized
By sedintary souls unlived
Not to see the sun rise or set
And days plod by unnoted
The profound is bottomless
The shallow may be understood
Like the dot-like matrix employed
Impressionism is the milieu
The conveyance of poetry
That supersedes conversation
Touching the heart, the soul
The lexicon of a grand rainbow