Cosmic Artist

My body just a brush

The mysteries uses at will

Every mistake I make

mysterious paint is spilled

The artist makes the most

of pigments misplaced

the fathomless unknown

is still able to express grace

laughing in the face

of my own misery

adjusts the focus higher

the universe not centered on me

I am a brush that splatters

I am also a brush refined

when I try to guide the creator

my art is of the blind

so instead I submit

to the will of life that flows

from my mistakes

a seed is painted

through thoughts

It grows and blooms

avoiding life experiences

is an artists doom

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