And That Is the Face of Art

 

And That Is the Face of Art

We are the spectators; we watch in wonder, each image framed,

In the spectrum of light, the multitude of colours skilfully tamed.

Our breath is taken, held in awe, at the spectacular panoramas portrayed,

The blend of colours in space, the brush strokes so masterfully overlaid.

 

Yet we are left to wonder who paints the storms and hurricanes,

The untamed wonderlands, wild horses breaking their chains.

Rage cast in thunderclouds, as tears wash colour from the eye,

The taste of emotion etched within the sun setting from the sky.

 

Day by day, over and over again, layer upon layer intently laid,

Never sleeping, as the Maestro follows every shifting ray.

Each master stroke of the brush into vibrant colours dispersed,

At night highlighting stars and planets throughout the universe.

 

Colour following the wild waves, the tides, the winds of change,

Season upon season, layer upon layer, each colour rearranged.

When summer burns, and autumn's orange turns to crimson red,

Then in winter's frost and fog, with snowdrifts, a blanketing bed.

 

Each hurricane painting ephemeral art, attentively transposed,

The debris in explicit detail, a masterclass so artfully composed.

Every subject perfectly placed in landscape, as a seamless array,

The Master of Art never stops painting, throughout night and day.

 

Phase upon phase, creating each masterpiece, we watch in awe,

Unforgotten moments, ever constant cues wherever we may go.

Each scene evolving, silhouettes generated, long shadows laid,

Painting each stroke of day, another masterclass in art conveyed.

 

Cleverly diffusing, catching the sun as it bathes upon the beach,

And rocky silhouettes, as it dances high upon the mountain peaks.

Painting the most beautiful sunrise ever seen, between sky and sea,

As the gull’s circle upon the rising ocean breeze, so wild and free.

 

Following the sun across the sky, every stroke of colour to the west,

Blending the colours of the spectrum into fauna and flora's best.

The Master producing evocative tender hues and subtle tones,

Long before and long after we are gone, through eternity He roams.

 

The diversity of conception, rendered images passing before the eye,

The sun in its radiant colours cast, evoking every element of life.

Illuminating creation as luminescence of light concentrates through space,

Light diffusing a thousand ways, with texture and tone in every place.

 

The fog that floats so close to the ground, viewed from hills above,

In harmony imagines paradise, created with all the Painter's love.

As we walk through life, scene to scene, our minds utterly amazed,

Too much to comprehend, the eternal exhibition seen, then erased.

 

Beware the blush of beauty captured in the red velvet rose adored,

So delicate, yet its unforgiving thorns an agonising lesson implored.

On stone walls, or cliff faces, that is the face of art beyond compare,

The complex shapes of leaves and trees, every pixel placed with flair.

 

Yet still we stand as spectators before each gallery of the day,

Watching living masterpieces born, then gently fade away.

No canvas can contain them, no museum house them all,

For every dawn unveils another work, each sunset hears its call.

 

The Painter signs no corner, no mortal hand can trace His art,

Yet every living creature bears the imprint of His heart.

Each fleeting scene a masterpiece no human hand could ever chart—

Creation is the canvas... And that is the Face of Art.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (July 2026)