Observation
A 1 of 1 by Sam Spratt, bound in time,
A pulse on canvas, deep as the divine.
It would slice through the mundane, make me see,
The unseen threads that bind you and me.
Each stroke, a whisper of the eternal,
A truth wrapped in shadows, so internal.
In its gaze, I'd find my own reflection,
A silent rebellion, a quiet resurrection.
A single piece, yet worlds unfold,
It would change everything I thought I knew, bold.
Art, as raw as breath, and just as true.