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Artist
The world was dark, a heavy shade,
Until the moment light was made.
Not with a brush of heavy hue,
But with the space where nothing grew.
I left the paper blank and clean,
To show the things that go unseen.
The curve of cheek, the fold of dress,
A beauty born of emptiness.
Against the night, the flowers bloom,
Chasing away the gathered gloom.
A study in the stark and bright,
A sculpture made of pure white light.