Word. colour.

How to instruct these black letters to formulate whats arising inside.

If they were neon, perhaps less words would be used then.

Troops and troops of colours, infact. Dancing across the blank screen.

There’s no restriction on how they will choose to move, or on the beauty of what they’re formulating.

They accept new hues and combinations because they know there’s a limitless provision of acceptance and provision from the Artist.

In fact, the more the colours realise they are free to flow wild together, the wider the Artist’s grin.

The Artist moves his hand gently across the white space. At first, unsure, but later fiercely excited, the colours agree to flow there.

A step backwards and it’s more than a creative moment. It’s His life visible.

If they were embellished neon, perhaps less words would then have to be used.