The Wrong Brush

From his horse he has had a vision,
A diverted interruption, we used to say.
No suffering there, their pain is rules,
Ones to explain to the masses.

Taking the wrong brush, colours fall
From the palette, so commanding,
Rousing no feeling, in every small atom,
Very close to feeling the vibration.

The very tears close and open,
To imagine a dramatic great man
Requires an artist’s touch of the pen,
Instead the art of writing is complete.