Face Canvas

That sweet tender visage that compliments all of you, it is yet blank and slated white... It was not yet ready to begin its treasured existence, until this morn' when i sought it amongst the layers of my conscious... It condensed, folded, and sharpened its own clarity, as if to say, find me... To be quiant, you were a phoenix, rising from the mournful ashes of former works i had dubbed distasteful, statuesque, unstable... I took the painful pleasure upon myself to create you, assemble the pieces frenetically, complete that indulgent puzzle, so that i may bode well of a few lamb escaping shephards gnoll... I took for granite the vivid primaries, smothering them into a silky embrace with a destined brush... With every gentle stroke of my hand, you are whisked from oblivion, and into the light of a new reality... With my gift i give you a deep sculpted persona, carving and whitling out the impure, and greeting anew that which glorifies... Like a temptuous sorcery, you fade into life, ever pac'ed and gracious, blossoming in your features, as if a stem'ed rose, unfurling and extending to the very outline of its fathoming... Your eyes were my greatest obstacle, penetrating them with my stare, i enslaved myself unto them until i found that magical molding with which to perfect you, and once casted, i would bask in well-deserved triumph... The color enriched, and the oils dry, i celebrate with an undaunted intoxication, from which springs a feeling of joy so great that each and every individual hair upon me grew rigid, and a wave of pulsating rejoice eclipsed my very soul... And as i unveil you to the curious, and the skeptic, their roarous applause cremates the inner image that i had saved for so long... You had not deceased, not gone away, but merely were pulled into life in perfect copy so that your ashes could deliver me a yet more utopian mirage... Another fresh white slate... Another phoenix from the ashes... Another face, of canvas...