Must Wait

Subjected to scrutiny
The forms die a 100 deaths
Techniques fear for life
Subjects become out of breath

Art should flow like music
They said

But my song doesn't get sung
In the tune they set

The shine of color Fades
in comparison with the lure of gold

The soft punching of keyboard triumphs
The hard strokes of brush

Dear art you must wait
Wait till I get the perfect lyrics
I will then set the song
And the world would want to sing along