What

God creates life for artists imaginations To fill in colors, missing parts with no mistakes Tangibles become open, solid, clear Aged by the absence of interpretation With so much space the rest is left up to us Where less is more Persistence initiates No desire or permission to preexist We simply are when time comes out to play What is that repetition in the woods With proportions measured out The warbler knows no other song but rain Again to follow it on wet branches Or on grounds it wobbles about to drown Moving on with no doubt from where it came The honey badger staggers awkwardly A chance to find a mate perhaps Hiding underbrush at closer range You know that it is there intuitively By the invisibility conjectured vacancies If only memory would listen Let artists fill in the empty spaces colored Allow God to do his job as well