The artist paints with tremor
His final masterpiece. ǀ Fine
With undefeated spirit,
He knows he’s met true bliss.
And one last time, the canvas,
So white and welcoming
Awaits its transformation,
The silence—deafening.
He picks his trusted paintbrush,
Extension of his own,
The instrument of giving,
Carved out of his own soul.
And traces of creation
He starts to leave behind,
A legacy of feelings
Passed down from his own kind.
Gathered for generations,
The colours are within.
A spring of endless water:
His undefeated dreams.
This is the final lesson,
His pupil is prepared.
His presence won’t be needed
Once his art is unveiled.
He’ll be one with his paintings,
Guiding his pupil’s hand,
Just like his own was guided
By his own master’s hand.
Each one of them is stronger,
As knowledge is preserved,
The artist is the artist,
But greater: he evolves.
The hand once more caresses
The world born from his thoughts.
The painting is complete now,
He feels it and he knows.
He takes his final form now,
Empties the sacred seat.
Only a spark of lightning,
A guardian—complete.
Once more awaits the canvas,
A new day has begun.
The time flies with its wings spread,
Until it comes undone.
Once more evolves the artist,
Once more he gives his all,
Once more he paints his feelings,
Until his final dawn.
Da Capo al Fine
– Patricia
Da Capo al Poetry 