Deep and throbbing,
desire and aspiration pull hard
like malamutes in downy snow,
dragging my aim forward
and my resolve further
and my will shouts GEE!  HAW!

I have one brush,
but many colors,
many shades
(and hues).
To mark out,
to inscribe and convey
some tenor and melody
and picture with one brush.

Inner riots come under orders,
bevel together in harmony,
and find floral voice through my brush,
and I find my tongue and
speak rainbows, prisms,
and ever always of
the Grand Banquet and celebration…
here the rainbow swirls
out, and back,
and delivers on its Promise.