The Artist of the Moment

Gather the color, the time
Falling upon the unpolished ground.
Give it structure, laced magic
That holds up in tilted sound.

Ideas can only stand, after all,
Waver so long as the mind is still
And shivering with anticipation,
Poised with endless diving will.

Dress this victim of self and speed
In the splash of fear, lovingly tucked-
Beside all the dry trophies
And weighty relief so plucked.